Sacrificed
by shepsgirl72
Summary: Sheppard finds out about an unsavoury chapter in the Ancients' war with the Wraith. Unfortunately, due to his genes, he is to be held accountable. **Spoilers for Season 3 episode 'Common Ground' and Season 2 Episode 'Michael'** Complete.
1. Chapter 1

Rivets.

Why could he see rivets? And sheet metal? This wasn't where he'd fallen asleep last night. No…wait. He'd woken up this morning in his own bed; he could distinctly remember rolling over and staring up at Johnny Cash's trouser legs in his room on Atlantis. Or was that yesterday morning? He really couldn't recall, and his head hurt when he tried to figure it out so he gave up.

A sharp pain stabbed behind Sheppard's eyes, and he clumsily slapped his hand across them, almost breaking his nose in the process. His limbs felt leaden and not quite fully under his control, but at least everything seemed to be where it should be, even if he did feel a little the worse for wear. He'd been drugged - he recognized the sensation now - but who had done this to him? And more importantly, where was he now?

Not sure he had the strength to do it, he decided to get up. So, he tried it the safest way he knew, rolling into his knees first, then testing each leg for strength before finally rising to his full and slightly unstable height. His back felt stiff and sore, particularly his shoulders, and he found the back of his head was sporting a scrape when he tentatively touched at a stinging patch of scalp. There was blood on his fingers when he pulled them away, but not enough to worry about.

So he was alive and reasonably well; now to work out where the hell he was. Bars surrounded him on all four sides and the riveted ceiling now almost grazed his unruly hair. _Great…a cell. That's always a good sign! _he thought, scanning the room beyond it for more clues.

He got the impression he was on a vessel of some kind. There was a slightly surreal feel to the gravity imposed by inertial dampeners that was easily detectable if you were familiar with it. It made him feel just slightly heavier than normal.

'You're awake,' a woman's voice said from the other side of his bars.

He turned slowly until he located her, sitting on a chair in a shaded area to his right. Though he couldn't see her face, he did sense familiarity when she spoke. 'Er, yeah. Nothin' gets past you.'

'Please, no more of your humour. I have no patience for your jokes.'

He squinted, trying to make out who exactly it was throwing the orders around like that. Unfortunately, his vision was still operating in soft-lens mode from the happy juice someone had given him earlier. He supposed he would have to wait until she wanted to be seen.

'Where am I?' he asked.

'On my ship.'

'Oh, well, if I'm on your ship that's okay then,' he said, trying to keep his mounting temper in check. 'D'you have a name?'

His question met with stony silence.

'No name, huh? Well, perhaps you could tell me where this ship of yours is heading.'

'You'll find out, soon enough.'

Sheppard didn't like the sound of that…no, not one bit. How often had that line been a precursor to trouble in the movies he'd seen? Too many times to count. This woman was starting to seriously creep him out. Perhaps if he got her talking and found out more about her, she wouldn't seem so sinister. 'Sounds ominous. You know, I'm not real good with surprises; how 'bout a little hint?'

'It is your destiny…the reason you came here to the Pegasus Galaxy. You will right the wrongs that have gone before.'

Well that hadn't helped; now she seemed more disturbing than ever. Wondering if it was possible this woman wasn't playing with a full deck, Sheppard backed away a few steps without even consciously doing it. 'Okay. Well, you just let me know when you want me to do all that stuff, okay?'

He sat down, leaning back against the bars behind him. The woman remained motionless in the shadows, but he could tell she was watching him. Her rigidity gave nothing away about how she viewed him. He felt no malice, but no compassion or friendship either. That fact made him incredibly uncomfortable, not that he was going to let her see that. At least if she'd been pointing a gun at him he'd know to feel threatened. Right now, he was just plain confused - he didn't care much for confused.

His stomach grumbled a noisy protest, and he noticed how bereft of moisture his throat and mouth felt. Much as it went against his better judgment, he realized that without any food or water of his own, he was going to have to take whatever this woman had to offer, not that she was offering anything. The way he felt suggested it had already been more than twenty-four hours since he'd ingested anything. If nothing else, he needed a drink. After putting it off for as long as he could, until his woolly head and painful stomach cramps made it a more urgent need, he spoke up again.

'Any chance of some food and water?' he asked casually. 'The room's not up to much, but if you give me a good meal, I promise to write you a nice review.'

His joke met with absolute silence. Its blatancy reminded him of the order she'd given and he had discarded, as he sometimes did with orders he didn't care for. 'Sorry. I also promise no more jokes.'

Without any apparent movement from his captor, a meal appeared before him. The beam that transferred it there reminded him of the one used in wraith cullings; he really hoped that was just a coincidence. The plate lay invitingly in front of him - slices of thick meat and bread, and a side garnish of fresh fruit. Issuing from the metal cup beside the plate, he detected the faint aroma of wine.

'Will that win me a 'nice review'?' the shadowy voice called out to him, rebounding the joke his way.

'Maybe. I'll let you know when I've eaten it.'

He picked up a slice of meat and sniffed at it. The smell reminded him of pork, but wasn't quite the same. It certainly wasn't an unpleasant aroma, so he tucked in. It tasted every bit as good as it smelled. Even the wine hit the spot as he swilled it all down, despite the fact he was more of a beer man. He'd expected to still feel thirsty, but he didn't. In fact, come to think of it, he didn't feel much of anything from his feet up to his knees…and now his hands were numb. _Oh, crap. She drugged me again, _he realised as he listed to his left and slammed his shoulder into the hard floor with a thump.

Only now, with her quarry unconscious, did the woman emerge from her hiding place. 'Time to go to work now, Colonel Sheppard,' she said softly, as she opened the cell door and dragged him out by the ankles.

oooOOOooo

'Colonel Sheppard. You're late. We were starting to get worried,' Elizabeth chided, but the glint in her eye let her colleagues know she wasn't angry.

'Yeah, sorry about that. We ran into a couple of wraith darts and had to cloak for a while. I figured it would be a good idea to maintain radio silence until we were sure we'd shaken them.'

Elizabeth's expression immediately changed to one of concern. She unfolded her arms and leaned on the balustrade. 'Are you both all right?'

'Fine. I told you; we just had to hide out for a while,' Sheppard assured her.

'And Dr Travis? How's she feeling after your encounter?'

'Oh, she's fine. She knows she has nothin' to worry about with me around.'

Elizabeth couldn't contain her smirk of amusement at his feigned arrogance. 'Of course not. How could I have ever doubted that? Perhaps I could have a word with her to make sure; you know how I worry.'

'That I do,' he agreed.

After a short pause, another voice broke through. 'Dr Weir,' Travis said, her voice sounding confident and strong.

'Hello, Dr Travis. I just wanted to make sure you're surviving the flight with Colonel Sheppard. It sounds like you're having quite a trip.'

'Yes. It's been very enjoyable so far, a little scary at times, but very enjoyable.'

'I'll bet,' Elizabeth smiled. 'Is Colonel Sheppard looking after you?'

'Absolutely. I feel completely safe in his hands.'

'She obviously doesn't know him all that well, then,' Rodney sniped from his workstation, flicking a venomous glare toward the Stargate.

Teyla shot him a silencing look, and he bit back any further snark he'd planned to unleash.

'All right. Well, unless you need us before you reach M5J-739, I'll speak to you once you've landed there,' Elizabeth finished.

'Yes. We'll contact you then,' Dr Travis agreed, terminating the connection.

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. 'Well, that was short but sweet.'

'Yes, I can't imagine why they would be in such a hurry to end the conversation,' Rodney grated out. 'That man is totally unprofessional.'

'You're just jealous, McKay,' Ronon laughed, clapping a huge hand on his shoulder as he walked past him and left the control room.

'I am not!' McKay called after him as he picked up his tablet and scurried along in the Satedan's, but the slight shriek in his tone suggested he just might be.

Teyla remained staring at the closed down Stargate, deep in thought. Elizabeth couldn't help but notice how distracted she seemed and felt the need to strike up conversation so she could delve further. 'Something on your mind, Teyla?'

'I'm not sure,' the Athosian breathed, her eyes still fixed on the 'gate.

'What's worrying you?'

'I wish I knew,' Teyla replied, turning to face her. 'It's probably nothing, but I have a strange feeling whenever we talk to Dr Travis and the colonel.'

'Maybe you're missing him,' Elizabeth suggested, thinking she'd detected the problem.

Teyla frowned, giving her an odd look. 'No, that is not it.' Then, she sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. 'Pay no attention to me, Dr Weir. I haven't slept well for the past few nights. I believe that is what truly ails me.'

'Then you should get down to the infirmary and see what Carson can give you.'

'Yes…yes, I think I will do that,' she said, offering up a sad smile in return for the advice.

'And take the rest of the day off,' Elizabeth called to her as she walked away. Much as you're a valued member of the team, I think we can get by without you for one afternoon.'

Teyla's smiled widened. 'I'm certain you can,' she nodded, leaving Elizabeth alone to watch the 'gate and think about just how worried Teyla's bad feeling had her.


	2. Chapter 2

When Sheppard next began to surface, the pounding in his head was far worse. He groaned, covering his face to shield himself from the light that seemed too bright even through his closed eyelids. When he strained them open, nothing looked familiar. The ceiling seemed to be made of bolted and rusting metal sheets, not like the clean lines in Atlantis. What was he doing here, wherever here was? With tears stinging his eyes, he had to give up and close them again.

His clothes felt uncomfortable, and as he reached down to work out why he found his T-shirt and jacket all bunched up, the creases digging into his back and exposing his midriff. It was a feeling he was familiar with; he'd been dragged by his legs, causing his clothes to ride up. That kind of think was par for the course in a job like his, but who had dragged him this time, and where to?

The sound of metal hitting metal rang out with a resounding chime, over and over. It took a moment or two for him to work out which direction it was coming from, then he cracked one eye to see the silhouette of someone running something up and down the bars surrounding him. Bars? Why were there bars? This didn't look good.

When the noise continued, he was forced to react. 'All right, all right. I get the point,' he snapped, regretting it as a wave of pain pulsed even more powerfully through his head.

The racket immediately stopped.

'Sit up,' a female voice ordered.

Though he really didn't feel much like moving, he decided it might be in his best interests to comply. Taking a deep breath, he blinked his eyes open and pushed himself into a sitting position. The change in altitude, albeit fairly minimal, left his head spinning. 'Woaw,' he breathed. 'That must've been some party!'

'Here. Drink.'

When he looked up, the woman was holding the metal cup she'd drilled him awake with through the bars, and in her other hand she carried a pitcher of liquid. The strangest sense of déjà vu struck him, leaving him with the clear feeling he shouldn't accept anything to eat or drink from this woman. He had the distinct impression that the last thing he'd done in this cell was take a drink from a cup like that.

'No thanks,' he croaked. 'I'm not all that thirsty.' It was a lie, but his subconscious was screaming so loud at him not to trust this woman that he couldn't just ignore it.

'It's just water,' she said, her tone completely flat.

'I'm not saying it isn't, but I don't want any,' Sheppard reiterated, hoping that was the end of the matter.

She shrugged, then turned and walked away to a table across the room where she set the pitcher down and perched to stare at him.

Sheppard hated being watched. People had been watching him his whole life, judging his every move, every choice, their expressions telling him he wasn't quite up to standard. As a result, he'd spent almost every day trying to prove himself worthy of acceptance, and he had a feeling he might need to do the same thing here. Well, he'd won over tougher looking critics than her; he was sure she'd come round.

The air was stuffy and just a little too warm for his liking, so he shrugged out of his jacket, noticing first how much his shoulders hurt, then just how grubby the back of his jacket was. It looked like someone had tried to clean the floor with it, caked as it was in grime and powdery rust. Rotating his aching shoulder blades, he asked, 'Where am I?'

'On my ship,' she replied.

That sounded familiar. At some level, he'd already known the answer. 'Have we had this conversation before?'

The woman tilted her jaw up a little and fixed him with a hard glare. 'Yes. Many times. The drugs are affecting your recall.'

'Sorry to bore you,' Sheppard muttered, rubbing at a sore patch in the back of his head.

'You don't bore me. I don't feel anything for you.'

He wondered if he was supposed to be hurt by that comment, but he wasn't. As the fog began to clear from his vision, he allowed his eyes to drift around the room he was in. Now his senses were equalising, he could well believe they were on a ship of some kind; he could feel the familiar, if minute, pressure of the artificial gravity. Again, that thought brought with it the oddest sense of déjà vu. He'd worked all this out before. The craft looked old and badly maintained, as if she'd picked it up cheap somewhere for this trip rather than it being a craft she relied upon. He just hoped it held together long enough to get them to wherever they were going. Eventually, his eyes came to rest on the woman on the other side of the bars. She was still staring at him, and her attention didn't waver for a moment.

'Okay, so, I'm thinking we should start with names,' he suggested.

'I already know your name, Colonel Sheppard,' she drawled.

'Then you have the advantage, because I still don't know yours,' he pointed out.

She continued to stare, but no name was forthcoming.

'Sooo,' Sheppard sighed, 'I guess you don't want me to know your name.'

'Your knowing my name serves no purpose,' the woman informed him.

'Maybe not for you, but I happen to have a preference for knowing who's kidnapping me,' he explained, hopeful that humour might melt a little of the ice in her demeanour.

It didn't. She just carried on staring at him.

She wasn't that old really, early thirties at most he estimated. She wore her brown hair scraped back in a harsh ponytail that did nothing to soften the features of a face that wasn't exactly beautiful, but he figured could get under your skin given enough time and the right circumstances. These, however, were far from the right circumstances.

'Look, you should know you're making a big mistake keeping me here. I have friends who can track me, and when they catch up with you, they're not gonna be too happy.'

'Empty threats,' she scoffed, examining the nails on her left hand for a brief interlude before meeting his eyes again.

He squinted at her, tired of making nice. 'How long have I been on this ship?' he demanded.

She looked as if she had absolutely no intention of giving him the answer, but then she relented. 'A little over thirty-six of your Earth hours, she said after a quick glance at her watch.

Sheppard recognized the watch. It was standard military issue, and since he was still wearing his own, she'd obviously picked hers up from another source. 'Where did you get that?'

Realising he meant the watch, she pulled her sleeve back and flashed it at him again. 'From Atlantis.'

'You've been there?'

'Yes, for quite some time.'

He realized then that she _was_ oddly familiar, but he couldn't quite pin down where he knew her from. Had she infiltrated the base somehow? If so, why had she taken just him, and what had happened to the others?

'You seem pretty sure my friends aren't going to show up,' he ventured, hoping to draw her into giving up more information.

'I am.'

'Well you obviously don't understand my people because we never leave a man behind.'

The briefest hint of a smile twitched at the corner of her lips as her eyes continued to bore into his. They were the coldest shade of blue he'd ever seen. 'I think perhaps I understand them far better than you do,' she replied.

'Oh yeah? What makes you think that?'

'Because it was your friends' decision to hand you over to me. They understood my terms, and knew it was the right choice to make.'

Sheppard felt ice water fill the veins where his blood had just coursed. There was no way, _no way, _they would do that to him. But without the benefit of his memory to confirm his assertion, the fracture that iota of doubt opened up in his defences struggled to hold itself together.

oooOOOooo

That night, after taking the sleeping tablet Carson had prescribed for her, Teyla did manage to sleep. Unfortunately, as a result of the drugs subduing her natural instincts, she was bombarded with nightmares that she could not wake from. Images of the Wraith filled her mind, interspersed with cries of pain that she recognized as Sheppard's voice screaming through the caverns of her mind. And in among all that chaos was Dr Travis, watching impassively as Sheppard suffered.

Teyla tried to reach him, but he remained just beyond her grasp no matter how hard she fought. Through it all, she felt Travis' eyes upon her watching without feeling, taking no action to assist either of them.

It was with great relief that Teyla woke some seven hours after she'd succumbed to the medication. She rose quickly and dressed, trying to push the nightmares from her mind, reassuring herself that they were nothing more than the contortions of an overtired mind addled with chemicals she should never have taken.

Later, she would make time to meditate and cleanse herself of her doubts. Right now, she had a burning thirst and desperate hunger to satiate, so she made breakfast her priority. But even as she made that decision, the sound of John's screams came back to haunt her.


	3. Chapter 3

The woman with all the answers had refused to utter another word after announcing his friends' betrayal of him, much to Sheppard's frustration.

Once he'd run out of different ways to word his questions, he'd sat down at the back of his cage and glowered, refusing to be intimidated, or to believe that his colleagues back on Atlantis would have handed him over to her like that. There was more to this situation that she was letting on, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

She'd offered him food, well, beamed it in whether he wanted it or not, but that still sat where it had appeared; he wasn't about to fall for that trick again. His might still be hazy, but it was improving all the time. Eventually, he'd have the answers to his questions, he just didn't know if he was patient enough to wait that long. As the time dragged slowly by, he drifted in and out of sleep, always snapping out of it with a start and always finding the woman sitting in the same shadowy corner, watching him.

Finally, tetchy from his discomfort and hunger, Sheppard couldn't maintain his silence. 'You know, you may think you can break me with this silent treatment, but I've faced a lot worse than you in my time.'

She didn't respond, her eyes still fixed on him.

He pressed his lips together hard to stop himself from erupting into a tirade of expletives as he glared back at her. This was insane. He had no idea where in the Pegasus Galaxy he was, if he was still there at all, or where his friends were. He couldn't even remember the events leading up to his capture yet. If she didn't start speaking to him, how was he supposed to give her whatever it was she wanted? He tried to think what Elizabeth would do in these circumstances. She was the negotiator, not him; she would know how to get this psycho talking.

'So, are you the only person on this ship, because I only ever seem to see you hanging around here?' he asked, trying to tempt her into giving him something he could use to nudge his memory into action.

Again, she gave him just the slightest hint of a smile. 'It would be foolish for me to answer that question, wouldn't you say?'

At last. She was talking to him. It was like seeing the sun for the first time after being shut in a box for a week. 'Only if you tell me you are and it's the truth,' he pointed out.

'Then I think it would be best to decline your invitation to confide.'

'That's a very elaborate way of saying you don't want to answer. Maybe you just enjoy my company so much you don't want to share me with whoever else is here,' he quipped.

Unfortunately, what was intended as a joke met with a less than euphoric response, and her eyes narrowed to burning slits. 'Why would you even think that?'

_Talk about over-reaction, _he thought. That was quickly succeeded by a moment of sick panic as he realised that her level of response could indicate he was hitting somewhere close to the mark. He seriously hoped that wasn't the case. That was a complication his situation could really do without. He made a mental note never to steer the conversation in that direction again.

'You know, you look like a reasonable person,' he continued, changing the subject. 'Why don't you and I just sit down together and have a civilized chat about whatever it is you think you need from me, and see if we can come up with some kind of deal that suits both our needs?'

'You should eat your meal,' she said, without bothering to acknowledge his suggestion.

'I don't think so,' he replied.

'You haven't eaten for several hours. You must be hungry.'

He flashed an angry smile her way. 'Somehow, I don't get the feeling my welfare is at the top of your agenda here, thanks all the same.'

'I have been instructed to ensure you are in good health on your arrival at our destination,' she advised him. 'So, you see, your welfare _is _important to me.'

'Ahhh, so I'm worth more alive than dead - that's some comfort,' he mused.

She gave no comment, but he thought he saw the faintest flicker of guilt cross her face. The moment of comfort was gone in an instant.

'Who are you taking me to? The Genii?' he asked. Kolya had meant to finish him when they'd last met. He'd threatened to kill the man on sight the next time they met, so maybe Kolya had hired some help to track him down with the minimum risk to himself. Then again, he couldn't imagine the exiled Genii worrying about him arriving well fed and watered.

She cocked her head a little, looking mildly puzzled. Apparently, the Genii weren't a race she was familiar with.

'Not Kolya, then,' he muttered, wracking his brain for someone else who would have requested him in person. If he was honest, he had no idea who else it would be; he'd stepped on a few toes, but nothing to warrant someone hiring a bounty hunter to come after him.

'Eat your meal,' she said again, glancing at her watch.

He squinted at her. 'Why? You got somewhere else to be?'

'As a matter of fact, yes,' she said bluntly.

'That's okay; you can go be somewhere else for a while. I'm not going anywhere,' he promised, but his answer didn't satisfy her.

'I will ask you one more time, Colonel Sheppard. Please eat your food.'

A thin oily film glossed the surface of everything on the plate, and this time, he knew exactly what it was. 'Why do you need to drug me?' he demanded.

'I…am only asking you to eat so you don't get sick.'

'Look, I remember enough about what's going on here to know that if I eat that stuff, I'll go out like a light. So…at the risk of sounding like a scratched record, why do you need to drug me?'

Without another word, she pulled a gun from inside her jacket, aiming it into his face. The suddenness of the movement surprised him, and he jerked back, raising his hands in surrender.

'Eat the food,' she growled.

After the initial shock subsided, Sheppard figured he had nothing to fear. She'd already said she was under instructions to get him to his destination in good condition, so she obviously wasn't about to shoot him. He lowered his hands again. 'You might as well put that thing away; you're not going to use it. You can't afford to hurt me.'

'Well I had hoped not to,' she agreed, letting go a bolt of power from her weapon that buckled his legs from under him. He pitched forward, hitting his forehead on the floor as he fell. He was sure he felt his skin split, but he couldn't move his limbs to check, the shock leaving him paralysed.

Before his brain had stopped buzzing, the woman rolled him onto his back, straddling his chest as she pulled something from her pocket.

'Don't worry, you'll recover from the stunning in no time. It's the syringe I didn't really want to use.' In her right hand, she now clutched the fattest, rustiest looking needle he'd ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on.

'You know, I _am_ feeling a bit peckish,' Sheppard grunted, barely able to force enough air out of his lungs to speak.

'You had your chance. Maybe next time I give you an instruction, you'll do as I ask.'

She slammed the syringe into his neck and released its payload. Sheppard bucked beneath her, the pain allowing his body some limited movement in response to it. Then, everything slipped away from him…

oooOOOooo

'You're late, John - again,' Elizabeth said, keeping a hint of humour in her tone. 'No more trouble with the Wraith, I hope.'

Sheppard's voice broke through to answer her with the minor distortion the passage through the Stargate caused the sound. 'No, just took a little longer than expected.'

'Can't imagine why,' McKay grumbled. 'What with him being out there alone with Dr Travis. They must be engrossed in their work.'

Ronan smirked. It seemed he shared McKay's view of why their radio transmissions were always late.

Elizabeth glanced across at Teyla. The Athosian stared into the event horizon with an expression caught somewhere between concern and pain. Realising Teyla was still worrying about the colonel, Elizabeth made a suggestion.

'How about we have a visual transmission this time?' she asked.

'Why? You missing me already?'

She couldn't help but laugh in response to his question. 'Something like that,' she conceded. 'I just think radio transmissions are impersonal.'

'It's not a social call, Elizabeth.'

'Humour me.'

She looked around at the others gathered there. Rodney didn't seem to understand why she was so keen to see him; Ronan, on the other hand, had obviously sensed a different motive behind her request. He squinted at her, the smile having slipped from his face. Teyla just continued to watch the 'gate.

'Well, okay. Just give me a second,' Sheppard responded.

That struck Elizabeth as odd, but she didn't comment. The workings of the puddle jumper were instinctive to Sheppard. There was no reason he needed time to set up the visual link. It should have been automatic. That nagging doubt Teyla had planted in her mind last night nagged just a little bit more.

After a minute or so, Sheppard appeared on a screen beside her. 'There you go. Nice to see you…wow, the whole gangs there! Am I in trouble?'

Elizabeth hadn't realised, but the others were now all stood at her shoulders, peering at him. Sheppard looked a little more dishevelled than she'd been expecting. His hair was mussed up even more than usual, and now, as he turned his head just a fraction, she spotted what appeared to be steristrips holding together the edges of a cut on his forehead.

'You're injured,' she said, suddenly more serious.

'What? Oh this,' he grinned, waving his hand dismissively. 'It's nothing. Just a little knock.'

'Looks like more than a knock to me.'

'Really…it's fine.'

'Where is Dr Travis?' Teyla asked, interrupting their banter in an abrupt manner quite uncharacteristic of her.

'She's still sleeping in the back. We've only just landed so I thought I'd contact you before waking her - give her a few more minutes rest before she starts work.'

His answer did nothing to smooth out the furrows of worry gouging their way across Teyla's brow. She gazed anxiously at the screen as if expecting it to give her the answer to some unspoken questions she still had.

'That's very thoughtful, John. Now, about that head,' Elizabeth continued. 'How did it happen?'

'It was when we had the run in with the Wraith. I had to pull a few manoeuvres to shake 'em off, and I guess I got thrown around a bit, that's all.'

'You didn't tell me things got that hot,' Elizabeth gasped, annoyed that he'd failed to report something so important. 'I thought you just cloaked and avoided them.'

'Well, yeah, but I had to lose them first.'

'It's a head injury, John. You should have told us. What if something had happened as a consequence? What if you'd lost consciousness? I doubt Dr Travis would have known how to operate the jumper.'

'It's a scratch, Elizabeth. I knew I was fine so I didn't trouble you with it. Now, should Dr Travis and I get this expedition underway, or do you want to reprimand me for the rest of the day?' he asked, giving her a lop-sided smile.

'All right, go ahead. But if anything else happens, you let me know right away. Is that understood?'

'You're the boss.'

'Yes I am,' she said t emphasise the point.

Sheppard shut down the communication, leaving Elizabeth with a blank screen and a deep-rooted sense of foreboding sitting like concrete in her stomach. She hardly noticed as Ronon dragged Rodney away for a sparring session, despite the fact the scientist's babbling excuses and protests could be heard half-way down the corridor outside the control room. Everyone went back to their work as if nothing was amiss. Only Teyla remained at her side, also seemingly mesmerised by the dark screen as the event horizon shut down and cut off their link to the colonel.

'Get any sleep last night?' Elizabeth asked, coaxing her to talk.

'Yes, more than enough.'

Elizabeth waited, arching an eyebrow. 'What is it, Teyla?'

'I dreamt that Colonel Sheppard was in danger, and that Dr Travis did nothing to help him.'

'I see,' Elizabeth said simply, with a sage nod. 'Teyla, would you mind joining me in my office for a moment. I'd like to hear a little more about those dreams.'

Teyla gave her a puzzled look but agreed without question, following Elizabeth from the control room without either of them exchanging another word.

oooOOOooo

In the jumper, Dr Travis rose from her position squatting behind Sheppard's seat and detached the minute control chip from his temple. He immediately fell limp. Catching him before his face could make contact with the controls in front of him, she slid him onto the floor where she could catch hold of his ankles and drag him back out onto her ship.

She suspected Dr Weir wasn't happy with their latest transmission, but that didn't trouble her as it was the last one they would need to make. They were now only five Earth hours from their destination. Even if Sheppard's friends on Atlantis realised there was a problem, they couldn't possibly reach him before she completed her task.

Then, at last, she and her people would be free.


	4. Chapter 4

_Those damned rivets again!_

How many times had he woken up to the sight of them now? If he was honest, he really didn't know, but it was already way too often as far as he was concerned.

Sheppard blinked a few times, then pinched the bridge of his nose, his head pounding as if he was coming down from the worst trip of his life. He rolled onto his stomach and tentatively touched at the back of his head. Yet again, it was sore. Why was his head always so damned sore when he woke up in the cage? And there was blood this time too... he'd hit his forehead when he fell, not the back of his skull, so what was that all about?

Feeling a twinge on his neck, another recollection came back to him. That bitch had stuck him with the rustiest needle he'd ever seen. And now he was wondering whether his Tetanus jabs were up to date.

He wasn't left alone to his ponderings for long. His almost constant companion entered then, arriving at the bars and folding her arms over her chest as she glared at him.

'You know, the way I see it. I'm the one out of the two of us who should be pissed.'

'You think so?' she replied, deadpan.

_This woman could give Ronon a run for his money in the monosyllabic stakes_, he figured, eyeing her angrily. He had no idea how many days she'd had him locked up like this now, the drugs were skewing his perception of time in the worst way, and he still had no idea why she had him trapped like this or where they were headed.

'Look, if this is going to be another of those one way conversations where I talk myself hoarse and you give me absolutely nothing, you might as well leave now,' he suggested.

She just stared back at him, blinking but not speaking.

Sheppard's temper started to boil. This woman was really starting to get under his skin, and here in this cage there was nothing he could do to convince her to talk. But he needed details. What had she done to his friends on Atlantis, what threats had she made that had forced their decision to let him go with her. If they'd ever made that decision. That could have been a lie, of course. A clumsy attempt to make him think contacting his friends for help would be pointless. That had to be the truth. They would never have willingly handed him over to someone, no matter how high the stakes.

'Okay, apparently you're not going anywhere, so how about you start telling me the truth about how I got here and where the hell you're taking me?'

'I've told you, your friends realised it was the right thing to do.'

'Yeah, you did...but you see, I'm not buying that anymore.'

She raised her chin, peering down her nose at him. 'Not buying it?'

He stared her down, determined not to show any sign of being intimidated by her act. 'You're lying. The only thing I don't know is why.'

He lips curved into the faintest of smiles, but her eyes remained cold. 'Clever, Colonel. I should have known I wouldn't be able to convince you of that deceit.'

'So why try?' he demanded. 'Who's paying you to do this? Maybe we can come to some arrangement that benefits you even more.'

For just a moment he thought he saw anguish in her expression, but it was gone so quickly he couldn't be sure. 'The payment for your delivery is higher than you can ever imagine. You cannot hope to match it.'

Losing patience with her cryptic taunts, he spat, 'You know, I think you have way to high an opinion of your chances here. We're already past the scheduled time for contact with Atlantis, which means they'll have people out looking for us already. And let me tell you, a few hours head start in this bucket of bolts isn't gonna get you anywhere. So, why don't you do yourself a favour and take me back now. I'll even put in a good word for you.'

She reached into her pocket, pulling something out and rolling it between her thumb and index finger. 'And why would I do that?'

Squinting, he tried to see what it was she held. It was a small, metal disk of some kind, no more than five millimetres in diameter, but he'd never seen anything like it before so had no idea what it was supposed to be. Apparently, it was important though. It had to be or she wouldn't be teasing him with it now. Though he sorely wanted to ignore what she was doing, his innate curiosity forced him to ask, 'What's that?'

'This?' she asked, prolonging his ignorance by holding it up to the scant light where he could see it a little clearer without providing an explanation. 'This is a very clever little machine.'

Taking a deep breath and mentally counting to ten, Sheppard told himself to keep his cool. He'd dealt with worse than this. He had to handle McKay on a daily basis, and the scientist was nothing if not frustratingly incomprehensible most of the time. 'Don't suppose you'd care to tell me what it does?' he asked calmly, figuring a complete freak out was unlikely to win him any results.

'It sends back reports to Dr Weir when you're unconscious,' she replied simply, pulling another identical disk from another pocket. She laid them both flat in her palm and held them out in front of him, just out of his reach.

She said nothing more, letting him stew over her reply while trying to piece together clues to get her meaning. So, did those things replicate his voice somehow? Then he remembered the dirt on the back of his jacket, the soreness in the back of his head and shoulders, and he realised what those things meant. She was moving him while he was unconscious, probably dragging him by his ankles, which was why only the top half of his body was feeling the punishment. But why would she need to move him? Unless...unless she was taking him to the jumper. Could the jumper be aboard the ship?

'No questions this time, Sheppard?' the woman asked, interrupting his thoughts.

A suddenly flash of memory hammered its way in now. Dr Travis, that was her name. Dr Travis from the botany team. More confused than ever, he finally lost his cool. 'Okay, Dr Travis, I've had just about as much of your game playing as I can take. If you tell me what the hell this is all about, I swear I won't kick your ass when I get out of this cage...and I promise you, I _will _get out of here.'

Her expression hardened instantly, and he had to wonder if that warning had been a step too far. He really wasn't in a position to make those kind of threats, but he had to hope she thought he was capable of making some kind of fight back or he had no leverage at all.

Her jaw setting firm, she surprised him by giving some ground. Perhaps she was a little afraid of him after all. 'I see you remember my name now, but you still don't remember how I can use these devices to control your behaviour. I'm afraid your friends think all is well with us. They're not looking for us at all.'

He looked again at the tiny, inconspicuous little chips in her palm, realising now just how powerful they must be. And only now did he become aware of the slight tenderness in his temple, making him wonder if that was where she had attached it to him. So was she dragging him to the jumper and slipping him into the pilot seat, then using his inert body to put on some kind of puppet show? That thought made him madder than ever, but he bottled it up because he was at last getting information, and he wasn't going to jeopardise that now.

'What did you tell them?' he demanded.

'_You_ told them all was well and we are heading to our destination. As far as they know, we are both safe and making our journey to M5J-739 just as planned. And because those words came directly from you, they have no reason to doubt that.'

'They'll figure something out soon. You can't keep this up forever,' he told her, planting his hands on his hips in challenge. 'And like I said, if you take me back now, I might be able to convince them to be lenient with you.'

'There is no going back now,' she replied, slipping the devices back into her pocket. 'In just a few hours I will deliver you to my mistress and then my part in this ruse will be over.'

The word mistress jumped out at Sheppard, and he started running through a list of the all women he'd met in the Pegasus Galaxy that he might have upset in some way. He came up empty. But still...a female? Now, at least he had some information. Whoever wanted him was female, and held some sway over this woman. Okay, he was building a picture of who wanted him so badly that they had tampered with Dr Travis to get to him. But how had they got to her? From what he recalled of the quiet scientist, and admittedly that wasn't much, she hadn't been off world often, and certainly never without a team of marines and other scientists.

'Look, whatever I've done to offend this mistress of yours, there has to be something I can do to put it right. Why don't you tell me what it is, and I'm sure Dr Weir will be more than willing to negotiate some kind of deal to make amends.'

'You have caused her no offence. I am the one you have offended.'

Either his headache was blurring his thinking, or this situation had just got a whole hell of a lot more complicated. So Travis had kidnapped him, was somehow capable of flying a decrepit alien ship to take him to halfway across the galaxy to some nameless, faceless woman who was pulling all the strings. But something wasn't sitting right here, and that 'thing' was Travis herself. How could she fly a ship like this, and where the hell had she got it from? 'I...I really don't understand. You're gonna have to help me out here,' he suggested, trying to keep his tone free from confrontation.

She folded her arms across herself, eyes narrowing. 'I owe you nothing, Sheppard. All you need to know is that handing you over to my mistress will buy the freedom of my people. That should suit your supposed sense of nobility.'

That hit a nerve. Was she actually questioning his character now? He didn't deserve that. 'Just tell me who you are taking me to!' he yelled, grabbing the bars and shaking them hard to alleviate the desire to strangle her where she stood.

'To the Wraith,' she told him, her face showing not a flicker of emotion at the thought of what those words meant.

Heart now rattling against his ribs, Sheppard instantly let go of the bars and backed up. The thought awoke a deep ache in his chest, bringing forward memories of the feeding he'd endured in Kolya's prison that he had been desperately trying hard to suppress. He couldn't go through that pain again...he had to get out.

'Why...why would you do that?' he asked, looking around at the bars enclosing him and hoping to find a hint of a chink in their solidity.

'The same reason your people handed mine to them. Because it will win our freedom.'

Sheppard stopped looking at the cage and focussed on her. His people. What the hell did she mean? Atlantis hadn't delivered anyone to the Wraith. They would never do that. 'What are we supposed to have done to you?'

She clammed up then, the answers no longer forthcoming. 'I've said more than enough. I suggest you make yourself as comfortable as you can, Colonel Sheppard. In a few more hours we'll be at our destination, and then you'll never see your people again.'

She started walking away, and he followed her as far as the bars allowed. 'You can't really want to do this. The Wraith can't be trusted to follow through on a deal.'

'Neither can you,' she spat back, turning on him and glaring as if she wanted nothing more than to kill him herself.

Finally freaking at the thought of what was to come, Sheppard lost the control he had been trying so hard to hold onto. He kicked and shook the bars on all sides, with no regard to the discomfort it caused his already battered body. Through it all, he remained vaguely aware of Travis...or whoever the hell she was...shouting at him to calm down before he damaged himself. Well, to hell with her, he figured, if him arriving damaged meant trouble for her then so be it. He wasn't about to make it easier for her to deliver her side of the deal.

But he should have known she wouldn't let him continue, and a flash of light in his vision told him she had stunned him once again for the split second before he hit the floor.


	5. Chapter 5

Elizabeth listened patiently to Teyla as she recounted the details of her dream. They were fragments mostly, nothing concrete, and even though her logical mind told her they were nothing more than figments of Teyla's over-tired mind, her inbuilt radar for trouble was telling her she shouldn't just dismiss it. Teyla had a nose for trouble, and was rarely wrong about these things.

'Is this the first time you've had this kind of dream about Dr Travis?' she asked, leaning forward on her desk.

'Yes…but…' Teyla's voice trailed off as if she was reluctant to finish her thought.

'Go on,' Elizabeth urged her.

'Although last night was the first time she appeared in my dreams, I have been having many uncomfortable feelings around her for some weeks now.'

'What sort of uncomfortable feelings?'

'It is difficult for me to explain,' Teyla sighed. 'The sensation is something like that I feel when I sense the Wraith, but different. I cannot even explain how; all I know is that I feel a sickness when I am around her. And now, with this…'

'You think John's in trouble?' Elizabeth clarified.

'I cannot be sure why, but that is what I feel, yes,' the Athosian nodded.

'You know, if I send someone out to check up on them and they're fine, John will be furious,' Elizabeth smirked. 'He might be enjoying the time alone with Dr Travis.'

'But if he is not…'

Elizabeth nodded and activated her earpiece. 'Rodney, Ronan, would you meet me in the infirmary in five minutes, please.'

'Oh, there is a God. Thank you…yes, yes, I'll be right there,' McKay gasped. That was followed by a screech, and Elizabeth only now recalled the conversation he and Ronon had been having as they left the control room. No doubt he was more than happy to come to her assistance.

'Come on, Teyla. Let's go see of we can get medical backing for spying on Sheppard. That way, Sheppard might forgive us!'

Carson watched the replay of Sheppard's report with clinical interest. McKay paused it for him, just as they had the best shot of the injury to his forehead, and he leaned in closer to get a better look.

'Aye, that's a nasty bump, all right,' he agreed. 'Would've taken quite some force to make a gash like that.'

'He says he was thrown around a little while manoeuvring to avoid some Wraith darts. Does that sound plausible?' Elizabeth pressed.

'Well, it's possible…if they were fired on and he hit his head against the control panel.'

'He didn't mention that,' Elizabeth said, looking around at the others to check she hadn't missed anything. They all showed their agreement with various degrees of muttering and head shaking.

'Did he seem fully coherent to you?' she asked the doctor. 'I got the impression he was…distracted. His story about the darts kept changing.'

'Oh, aye. He sounded fine, but if you want my opinion about how he looks, I've got quite a different story. Rodney, can you bring up a still of the colonel looking directly at us?'

Huffing something about not being a glorified video editor, he did as requested, framing John's face within the laptop screen on Carson's desk.

'Do ye see the eyes?' Carson asked them, as they all leaned a little closed. 'His pupils are hugely dilated. You usually find that when someone has suffered a substantial head trauma…or if they've taken narcotics.'

'What? Sheppard might do a lot of crazy things, but he'd never do that when he's in charge of a jumper,' Rodney squeaked. 'Especially not when he has someone else with him.'

'I'm not suggesting he has, Rodney,' Carson said, holding up his hands in surrender. 'I just thought it was important to make you all aware of what the symptoms might signal…'

'What do you know about Dr Travis?' Elizabeth asked him, calling the argument to an end.

'Well, I don't like to be uncharitable, but I have to say I've seen Dr Travis a number of times in the past six months, and she's rather an odd young lady. And if I recall correctly, she asks a lot of questions about the colonel. We had her in here treating her for shock after the Wraith attacked the planet where she was collecting plant samples from about six months ago, but she seemed far more interested in him than she was in her own welfare.'

'Great! Another recruit to the Sheppard fan club,' McKay grumbled. 'Like we need anymore of those.'

Ronon, punched his shoulder to shut him up

Weir squinted at the doctor, mentally trying to out the pieces of the puzzle together. 'What sort of questions did she ask?'

'All sorts, really. Things like, how he'd come to join the project, whether he had any family back home, who his friends were on Atlantis. She also asked whether it was true he had the strongest genetic link to the Ancients out of anyone here; that seemed to interest her. I told her I had the Ancient gene myself, but once she knew Sheppard possessed the stronger bloodline, she hardly gave me the time of day.'

'What makes you say she is odd?' Teyla asked.

'Well, there's nothing specific; I suppose it's more of an instinct you develop over years of dealing with people -'

'Yes, yes, yes, Carson. We all know you've been doing this for years - get to the point,' McKay snapped.

'I'm about to, Rodney, if you'll shut up for a moment. She's always been a quiet wee thing, more so after the Wraith attack. She doesn't communicate well; I understand she doesn't have many friends on Atlantis, so she keeps herself pretty much to herself. In fact, I got the impression she was uncomfortable here.'

Rodney began clicking his fingers, bringing them all to irritated silence. 'I was having dinner with Katie Brown last week and she said pretty much the same thing. She's tried to bring her out of herself several times, but she just can't get through to her.'

'And heaven knows Katie's used to dealing with difficult people,' Carson muttered.

'Ha, ha…my sides,' Rodney sneered, firing him a frosty look. 'Anyway, as I was saying, Kate has tried to make friends with her, but she'd just not interested. She said she takes a back seat on most projects, and she was surprised when Travis volunteered to go with Sheppard to collect the plant samples from M5J-739 …oh, now I understand why she was doing that silly smile thing…she didn't think it was about the plants.'

'Dr Travis has also asked me a number of questions about John over the past few months,' Teyla added. 'She was subtle about it, but now that I think back, I have never known anyone take such an interest in him before.'

'She asked me about him, too,' Ronon grunted, folding his arms over his broad chest. 'I just thought she liked him…wouldn't be the first.'

'That's true enough,' Carson nodded. 'It's not exactly unusual to hear the young ladies on base talking about the colonel, but she was rather more persistent with her questions than most…och, why didn't I pay it more attention?'

'Don't beat yourself up about it, Carson, I'm sure John's fine,' Elizabeth said, trying to lift some of the burden of responsibility from the doctor. He was the type of person who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, a quality that made him an excellent CMO, but also gave him an immense guilt complex.

'Does this mean Sheppard has a stalker, because, seriously, if he has, we're never going to hear the end of this,' McKay whined.

'Rodney, stay focussed,' Elizabeth ordered.

'It's the hair,' he grumbled, waving his hand over his own thinning locks. 'Women really go for that whole messy look.'

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at him and he fell silent, looking suitably reprimanded. 'All right, people. Let's not get over-excited about this. We don't know there's anything wrong at all. Colonel Sheppard and Dr Travis could be collecting plant samples as we speak. However, I think we have enough doubts to follow this up. Rodney, if we send a jumper through the gate, how soon would you be able to pick up his sub-dermal tracker?' she asked.

'I could boost the jumper's scanners to increase the range so we can scan M5J-739 almost as soon as we get through. It's a pretty simple procedure - shouldn't take more than half an hour.'

'Good. I want you all to go through with Major Lorne and his team and check things out. With any luck, Dr Travis' interest in Sheppard is no more than a harmless crush, but her fascination with his Ancient gene has me worried. There could be any number of species we've yet to meet who want to get to grips with Ancient technology. We can't afford to let the colonel fall into potential enemy hands.'

oooOOOooo

With a strangled groan, Sheppard rolled onto his side as the effects of the stun weapon began to wear off. He was back in the cage, which now felt even smaller and more inescapable than it had before. The effects of the drugs were wearing off with every passing moment, and his recall of the time leading up to his abduction was becoming much clearer.

Now he could remember her, he recalled that Travis had been following him around like a lost puppy on Atlantis for weeks. He'd tried to ignore it, but she'd made it pretty hard since she'd turned up wherever he went. He hadn't even wanted to come on this trip with her, but he'd been too polite to withdraw once she'd approached him to say how much she was looking forward to it. Why hadn't he gone with his instincts and delegated the responsibility to someone else?

As he forced himself to sit up, he found the woman he'd thought was nothing more than a mild nuisance watching him from beyond the bars.

'Thought you'd gloat some more, did you?' he grunted, wincing as his body ached in protest at the shift in position.

'I find some satisfaction in your situation, yes.'

He let out a huff of laughter into his chest, shaking his head. 'Whatever floats your boat.'

She approached the cage, the light catching what looked like angry tears in her eyes as she glared down at him. 'This isn't a game, Sheppard. I'm not doing this for fun. The satisfaction I feel is knowing my people will be free again once I hand you over.'

With great effort, he rose to face her. The panic awakened by her bombshell about the Wraith had subsided while he'd laid paralysed in that cage. Now, it gave way to anger - anger he was having trouble reining in.

'You know what? Right now, I couldn't give a damn what excuses you have for doing this. Don't you feel any kind of remorse about handing me over to the Wraith?'

For a second, she averted her gaze, but her eyes soon darted back to his with renewed confidence. 'Why should I? Did your people consider that for a moment when they handed my planet over to them?'

Dumbfounded, the colonel eyed her oddly. 'What the hell are you talking about?'

'You do not need to know,' she assured him, jutting her jaw defiantly.

'YOU OWE ME AN EXPLANATION!' Sheppard yelled, the force of his voice sending her staggering back a few paces in surprise, her hand sliding down to her gun. His chest hitched, as he struggled once again to bottle up his fear and rage. Forcing himself to lower his voice, he continued. 'If you plan on feeding me to the Wraith, the least you can do is tell me why.'

She swallowed audibly, seemingly aware of how angry she had made him. Though she looked as though she was about to answer him, after a momentary lapse her hard veneer was resumed all too quickly. 'I have already said too much. I was told not to speak to you or I would not receive my reward.'

That said, she turned and strode away, leaving him alone for the first time. Sheppard wasted no time in testing every bar of that cage, keen to take advantage of any minor weakness he might find. If he could get out and back to the jumper, he might be able to take up a defensible position and make a bid for freedom. He tugged, he kicked and he shook every one of them, but to no avail. Unfortunately for him, whoever had made the cage knew exactly what they were doing. Short of slicing himself in half, there was no way he was getting through those bars.

Giving up at last, he backed up to the rear wall and slid down to the floor, clutching his head in his hands. The memory of the pain Kolya had put him through at the hands of his captive Wraith pulsed through his brain, filling him with cold terror, along with a realisation that there was no getting away from this. Soon, he would feel that pain again. Hopefully, this time, they wouldn't drag it out for so long.


	6. Chapter 6

Lorne's team were kitted up and ready to go before McKay had even finished his enhancements. They boarded the jumper while he still worked, much to his disgust, ensuring not a moment was wasted once the scanners were ready to do the job required of them.

When he grumpily announced his work was complete despite the interruptions, Lorne readied the jumper for take off.

'I want you to contact us as soon as you have something,' Elizabeth said as the jumper manoeuvred into position in front of the 'gate.

'We'll be in touch,' McKay promised, and the jumper disappeared through the event horizon leaving hardly a ripple.

As they rushed out of the 'gate they'd dialled, the scientist immediately began his scans. The frantic key tapping and electronic beeps as he programmed in the scan filled the edgy silence in the cockpit.

'What do you want me to do, Dr McKay? Hold position or go in closer,' the major asked, peering over his shoulder at him.

'Closer,' McKay barked, not lifting his eyes from the tablet he was working on.

Teyla shot the major an apologetic smile. 'He does not mean to be so abrupt; he is just distracted.'

'I hadn't noticed a difference,' Ronan quipped. Teyla rolled her eyes.

'_He_ can here you, you know,' McKay snapped as he worked.

'You see anything?' Lorne called back to the scientist, who sat hunched over his computer, frowning and muttering under his breath.

'No, nothing,' McKay called back, his right hand almost a blur of activity.

'You want me to keep going closer?'

'No, there's no point. I've scanned the surface of the planet; there are no signals down there at all.'

Lorne narrowed his eyes at him as he sat back from the tablet at last. 'So you're saying they're not on M5J-739?'

'Yes, major. That's what I'm saying. Would it help if I spoke more slowly for you?'

'Rodney!' Teyla warned.

'Well if they're not on that planet they have to be somewhere around here,' Ronon pointed out. They definitely came to this address, right?'

'Yes, and then they could have gone back through the 'gate to any one of hundreds maybe thousands of other addresses. The possibilities are…oh, hold on, hold on. I think I have something. Yes, I have a signal. It's Sheppard's!'

A sigh of relief rippled through all gathered there.

'And Dr Travis?' Teyla asked.

'Nothing,' he admitted, looking mildly nauseous. 'It's just Sheppard.'

'So, where is he?' Ronan grunted, asking the obvious question.

'Oh, nonononono. This can't be right!' Rodney replied, in a manner disturbingly familiar to them all. In their experience, it was usually the precursor to bad news.

'What is it, Rodney?' Teyla asked, sensing his anguish.

'This is bad…this is very bad!'

'What?' both Carson and Ronon grunted.

'Why would he go there? It makes no sense,' McKay gibbered, repeating the scans as if he hoped the sheer number of repetitions might actually change the results.

'What?' Now it was the chorus of Teyla, Carson, Ronon and Lorne's voices in unison that broke through his rambling.

'He's heading toward another planet in the system; he'll be entering its orbit within the next hour.'

'So we head there and find out what's going on,' Ronan said, with his usual matter-of-fact gruffness.

'I think that would be an incredibly bad idea,' McKay spat, frantically entering instructions into his tablet to get better readings from the new destination. 'I'm picking up a Wraith Hive Ship on the planet's surface, and a massive construction, maybe some kind of fortress because I'm detecting masses of weaponry. I think the planet may be some kind of Wraith stronghold.'

'Can we contact him - ask what he is doing?' Teyla asked, a hint of the anxiety she was suppressing escaping in her tone.

Lorne tried to hail the jumper, but go no response. Giving the others a quick glance, he tried again - still nothing.

McKay tapped away at his tablet, a look of mild horror contorting his face as he looked up again. 'The jumper's powered down. It's on board another craft.'

'So Sheppard's in trouble. Let's go after him,' Ronon ordered, barely able to remain in his seat as his adrenaline began to surge.

'You heard Dr Weir. We have to contact her with the information and await further instructions,' Lorne said, eyeing the giant cautiously while operating the gate and sending through his IDC. Though keen to move out, Ronon settled as instructed.

Weir's voice echoed though the jumper. 'What news do you have for me, Major?'

'We have a situation, Dr Weir. Colonel Sheppard's jumper is on board another vessel headed for a planet that Dr McKay believes to be a Wraith stronghold.'

'He's been abducted?' she asked.

'It looks that way.'

There was a pause while Elizabeth digested the news. 'And did you pick up the colonel's and Dr Travis' sub-dermal transmitters aboard the vessel?' she asked.

'We have locked onto Colonel Sheppard's tracker, but not the doctor's. I'm afraid there's no sign of her out here.'

Again, a pause followed as she weighed up the information. 'How far ahead of you are they?'

Lorne looked back at McKay, who was already doing the calculations. 'Almost two days,' the scientist called.

'They must have headed that way almost as soon as they got through the gate,' Weir mused. 'But Colonel Sheppard sent through three communications saying they were headed to M5J-739. That doesn't make sense.'

'Elizabeth, if I might interrupt,' Carson called out to her.

'Of course, Carson. Go ahead.'

'Remember I said his pupils were dilated? I'm wondering if it's possible he was under the influence of drugs after all?'

'What, you think someone coerced him into making those reports?' McKay asked.

'Well, I can't be sure, but it's a thought,' Carson replied.

'All right,' Elizabeth interrupted. 'I want you to head toward the planet and get as close as you can without putting yourselves in danger. Find out what you can about whatever's going on down on the surface, but don't try anything. I'll get a couple more teams ready and send them out after you. Rodney, can you send through details of the location you're headed to?'

'On it,' he called back, heading up to the co-pilot seat and almost throwing Carson out of it. 'Move,' he demanded, interfacing his tablet with the jumper's control panel so he could download all the information he'd collected to Atlantis' systems.

'Thank you, Rodney,' Elizabeth said as the information streamed to her. 'Proceed with extreme caution, Major Lorne, and do not try to engage the Wraith before back up has arrived. Gather what information you can and let me know what you find. We'll formulate our next move once we know what we're dealing with. And please, regular radio contact. I don't want to lose track of anyone else.'

'Every two hours, Dr Weir,' Major Lorne promised. 'We'll be in touch soon.'

oooOOOooo

By the time Dr Travis came back into the room, Sheppard he managed to regain his composure. The solitude had given him time to think, and now, despite the fact he was headed into a situation he had no desire to face again, a small ember of empathy had begun to burn in him for this strange woman. What few words she'd said had given him enough information to realise she wasn't the mastermind behind what was happening to him, and he knew his best chance was to work on the Achilles heel she'd revealed.

He remained sitting on the floor as she arrived at the bars in front of him, his eyes tracing her movement and the subtle change in her expression. She didn't look quite so sure of herself now. If anything, she looked as if she felt a degree of guilt for her acts.

'So, I've been sitting here thinking about what you said,' he called to her, seeing her draw in a sharp breath at his words.

'I did not say anything,' she told him.

'That's funny, because I seem to remember you mentioning something about your people going free once you hand me over to the Wraith.'

'You are mistaken,' she assured him, but he noticed now that she couldn't hold his gaze.

'I'm pretty sure I'm not…just like I'm pretty sure you're not a botanist from Earth. What I can't work out is how you got onto Atlantis to infiltrate the base and get to me.'

The woman sucked in her cheeks, refusing to answer.

Sheppard chewed on his bottom lip a moment, a nervous habit he'd developed in childhood and had never managed to kick. 'All right. You don't want to talk to me, so why don't I just tell you what I think is going on and you can just tell me if I'm right?'

She squinted back at him, but now he wasn't sensing quite the level of anger he'd felt before. Deciding he had nothing to lose, he continued.

'I'm thinking you're a native of the Pegasus Galaxy, and the Wraith are holding your people captive. They aren't as interested in you as they are in Atlantis, so they've told you if you can bring them someone from the base who can operate Ancient technology, they'll let your people go.'

Looking tired and strained, she ran a hand back over her scraped back hair, smoothing out any stray locks. 'It's an intelligent guess, but not quite right,' she told him.

Determined not to lose his temper this time, Sheppard allowed her snipe to wash over him. 'Okay, so why don't you tell me which bits were wrong and I'll have another go?'

'I only came to tell you we'll be arriving at our destination within the hour. I thought it would give you time to prepare yourself.'

'What's to prepare?' he said, forcing on a crooked smile. 'Perhaps I should add some seasoning to myself, make myself taste better for your bosses.'

'They will not feed on you…at least not to kill you,' she said, her brow furrowing with the thought of what she was telling him. 'You are too important to them.'

Though what she suggested brought to mind memories of that Genii torture, Sheppard struggled to stay focussed on what was happening in the here and now. 'Why? I'm thinking that once I've served whatever purpose they have in mind for me I'll look as tasty as any other human.'

'I cannot have this conversation with you,' she muttered, reaching into her pocket and pulling out some kind of strap.

Sheppard eyed it warily. If they were only an hour from landing, he doubted she was about to do anything to injure him when the Wraith apparently needed him fit and well. Still, the strap had him a little worried; perhaps he was slipping into paranoia after everything he'd been through.

'Wait…look…I know the Wraith have told you not to tell me anything, but don't you think there could be a reason for that?' he said, desperate to keep her talking.

'What do you mean?'

'If they're holding your people captive in some way, maybe I can help,' he offered.

She laughed, shaking her head. 'You are just like them - bargaining for your life.'

'Just like who?' he asked. 'The Wraith?'

'Of course not,' she snorted. 'They have no reason to bargain with anyone. They are invincible.'

'That's kind of the point I'm trying to make here. They don't need to bargain with anyone, least of all humans. We're a food source to them, like cattle, and, no offence, but if I was hungry, I wouldn't offer a bribe to a cow so I could kill another one of the herd - I'd just do it, and then probably eat the rest of the herd, too. They have nothing to gain by letting you go. I'm guessing they'll take me off your hands then keep you and your people anyway.'

A moment of horrified realisation dawned on her; he saw it rush across her face like clouds casting shadows as they moved across the sun. It was as if he had voiced a thought she'd been trying not to acknowledge for herself. Now, he'd made her face it.

'You see,' he said, seizing on her moment of weakness. 'You know I'm right. But if you take me back to Atlantis, I promise you I will convince Dr Weir to let me come back here with a few teams and help you break your people out.'

Giving him a puzzled frown, she asked, 'You would do that…even after what I've done to you?'

'Yes,' he insisted, standing up now and approaching the bars to look her in the eyes. He'd been trained to do that. Looking someone in the eye helped to build their trust in you. 'Other than a few bumps and scratches, no real harm's been done.'

'How do I know I can trust you?'

'I guess you don't, but can you trust the Wraith, either?'

He saw the conflict in her, daring for the first time to hope she might be about to change her mind. Tears pooled along her lower lids as she considered his words. That was a good sign, he decided. She was wavering - she wouldn't have the heart to go through with it.

Unfortunately, he had underestimated the loyalty this woman felt for her people. Lifting her chin, her expression once again hardened into a mask of disinterest. 'I cannot risk turning back now. The Wraith are aware of our position and are tracking our approach to the planet. Here, take this,' she said, holding the belt she clutched out to him. 'Strap yourself to the bars; I haven't had much experience with landings and I wouldn't want you damaged.'

Sheppard moved so quickly that the woman had no time to react. He grabbed her wrist through the bars, yanking her forward and slamming her against them. Wrapping the belt around her throat, he hissed into her ear, 'You let me out of this cell now or you'll never see your people again.'

It was a good plan, one that would have worked had she panicked and clawed at the garrotte the way he expected her to when he cut of her air supply. Unfortunately she didn't, and instead calmly reached for her gun before he could disarm her and stunned him into unconsciousness.


	7. Chapter 7

'Can't you make this thing fly any faster?' Ronon rumbled, just itching to start a fight with someone. Patience wasn't one of his virtues, and he was already going crazy holed up in the jumper with so many people and so little to do of any practical use.

McKay, though in no way a physical match for the huge Satedan, didn't flinch from meeting the challenge. 'Yes, of course. I'll just get my spare ZPM and augment the power to the engines…oh, wait, I left it in my other jacket when I got dressed this morning. Don't you think I would speed things up if I could?'

'We need to get to Sheppard.'

'Well, maybe you should get out and push, Conan. You seem to think brute force is the answer to everything.'

'Why don't I just push you out the back instead? We'd probably go quicker of we weren't carrying so much weight,' Ronon growled, standing up and hovering over him.

'Are you calling me fat, because I'm not? I just don't metabolise food very quickly. My body's still trying to catch up,' the scientist moaned, folding over the wrapper of the power bar he was half way through eating and pushing it back into his tac vest pocket.

'Then maybe you should stop eating for a while and give it a chance.'

Teyla planted herself between the two of them, placing a calming hand on Ronon's chest. 'Fighting amongst ourselves is not helping Colonel Sheppard. Major Lorne will get us to the planet as quickly as the jumper allows; we can do no more at this time.'

'I'm not good at sitting around thinking,' Ronon said sadly.

'Tell me something I don't know,' Rodney muttered under his breath.

The burning need to reach his friend made Ronan's head ache as if it was caught in a vice. He needed to shoot something to relieve the pressure, and right now McKay was top of his list - at least until they reached the Wraith.

'I know it is difficult, Ronon,' Teyla purred, the pitch of her voice intended to counteract the venom from his mood. 'We all want to help Colonel Sheppard, but we cannot get there any faster than the jumper allows. The colonel is strong - he has proved that to us many times. I have faith he will survive until we can retrieve him.'

'In a Wraith stronghold?' Rodney sputtered out without thinking. Everyone shot him a silencing look. 'Do you have any idea what the odds -?'

'I believe he has been taken for a reason,' Teyla said, raising her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. 'I do not think whoever seeks him would lure him so far away from Atlantis just to kill him. I feel they selected him for a reason, and that reason will keep him alive. And as long as he is breathing, there is still a chance to rescue him.'

Around her Carson, Lorne, and his team nodded their support for her theory. Rodney didn't look convinced, but thankfully chose this to be one of the rare occasions he kept his doubts to himself.

Ronon smiled down at his tiny Athosian friend. It was at times like this that he understood what made Teyla a leader of her people. She possessed a serenity that soothed those around her no matter how anxious they felt, and she knew just what to say to keep their hopes alive in even the bleakest of situations. He reached out and laid his hand on her shoulder - a silent gesture of thanks.

Then, he resumed his seat and tried not to think of all the awful things that could happen to Sheppard in the two days it would take to reach him. He, out of everyone there, knew how cruel the Wraith could be to their prisoners. Teyla and Sheppard were his best friends on Atlantis. The colonel had accepted both he and the Athosian into his team without question, understanding the benefits of their knowledge of the Pegasus Galaxy when others still did little more than give them dubious looks in the corridors. If anything happened to Sheppard, he felt sure the trust he and Teyla enjoyed now would dwindle, leaving Atlantis no more a home for them than any other place in the galaxy.

oooOOOooo

A sharp jerk caused the back of Sheppard's head to make contact with the bars behind him, bringing him painfully back to his senses. Looking down at himself, he found he had been strapped to the rear wall of his cage, but in addition, his wrists had been tightly bound behind his back. Despite his attempt to throttle her, Travis had obviously strapped him in for safety during their descent. Both of his arms felt numb, but he couldn't move to relieve the pressure slowing the circulation of his blood through them. His own bodyweight was the problem, and the strap held him too firmly in place. He had to admit she was pretty good at tying knots. There was no give in his bindings at all.

A moment or two later, the dull drone of the engines that had accompanied him for the whole journey, cut off abruptly. Silence engulfed him, sending a cold shudder through his body. They'd landed, but was it with the Wraith or had he convinced his captor to change her mind?

He heard the door behind him open, and strained to see if it was 'Travis' returning. It was, and she quickly pulled her knife out and cut the strap pinning him to the bars, though she left his wrists bound, something he took to be a bad sign. 'We've arrived,' she said, answering his unspoken question.

He struggled to get to his feet, his balance thrown off-kilter without the assistance of his arms. 'Well, thanks for the ride,' he sniped, flexing his fingers behind his back as pins and needles kicked in. 'Next time I travel, I'll be sure to fly Fruitcake Airlines again…oh, wait. There won't be a next time, will there?'

She dropped her gaze to the knife she still held, apparently embarrassed by his admonishment.

Feeling guilty, Sheppard tried to appeal to her better nature one last time. 'It's not too late. If you get me to the jumper, I might be able to get us out of here.'

She glanced up at him. 'You would take me with you even now?'

'Yes.'

'Why?'

'Because you're a victim of the Wraith, too. But we have to go now!'

She shook her head. 'I can't…'

'Can't or won't?' he hissed, but it was already too late. The march of heavy booted feet approached the bay and he knew the Wraith had boarded the vessel.

They crowded in through the door - two enormous faceless drones and one who bore himself with an air of self-importance befitting of someone who worked more closely with a queen. The leader looked Travis up and down, then walked straight past her to peer through the bars to where Sheppard stood, his heart pounding like a caged animal throwing itself at the walls of its confinement. Again, the creature cast his eyes up and down the colonel, then he pulled a device from within his long, fluidly flowing coat and scanned him.

What passed as a smile for his race curved his lips, along with a hiss of apparent satisfaction. He turned to Travis and fixed his snake-like eyes on her; Sheppard noticed how she seemed suddenly much smaller and less intimidating in the presence of these monsters.

'He meets our requirements. You have done well,' the Wraith rasped at her, walking around her in a tight circle. 'Our queen will be most pleased.'

She swallowed hard, not daring to look the lead Wraith in the eye. 'Then she will free my people?' she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

The Wraith stopped in front of her, his smile broadening to reveal the rows of tiny sharp grey teeth concealed with his rancid maw. 'There has been a change to the terms of our agreement,' he announced with obvious pleasure.

The woman's jaw slackened, her whole body suddenly losing its rigidity as she wavered before him. 'But…but…I did everything you asked of me. I brought the Lantean to you…You promised us freedom in return.'

'Silence,' he hissed, his reptilian eyes boring into her.

She glanced anxiously at Sheppard, silent tears streaking down her cheeks. He just shrugged, giving her a grim _I told you so _smile. Much as her plight ignited his sense of injustice, he didn't have the energy to feel sorry for her right now. In truth, it was all he could do to hold himself together in front of these creatures. So little time had passed since his torture at Kolya's hands. He realised now, somewhat too late, that although he'd been assuring everyone he was fine, he was far from it. The torture had weakened him mentally, robbed him of the edge he'd relied open all his life to get him through when things got tough. Why hadn't he spoken to Heightmeyer when he'd returned to Atlantis? She'd offered her services to him numerous times and he'd always refused saying she should concentrate her efforts on people who needed her more. Men like him just didn't talk about their feelings; it wasn't the done thing.

The lead Wraith gestured with a dip of his head toward the cage, an instruction for the two followers to retrieve Sheppard. As they opened the cage and pulled him out, the one in charge turned back to Travis. 'Our queen wishes to see you both. If you are fortunate, woman, she might reward your industriousness with a quick death.'

Sheppard heard her gasp and watched her legs buckle as one of the Wraith drones caught her arm and dragged her out of the door. She really had believed the Wraith would set her free; he wondered how she could have been so gullible. The other dealt with him in a similar manner. Sheppard flashed an evil look the leader's way as he swept by him, but the foul creature simply grinned its vicious shark-like grimace and followed on.

As he was bundled off the decrepit craft and along dusky passageways lined with membranous matter, Sheppard's spirits sank. If the woman was right, and he'd been unwittingly sending reports back to Atlantis throughout their trip, then his team would only now be growing suspicious of his failure to check in. That meant he was being held in a Wraith colony and days away from help. Something told him he was going to need that edge he'd lost very soon.


	8. Chapter 8

Sheppard and Travis were pushed roughly into a large eerily lit room. He'd seen enough Wraith lairs to know this was likely to be the queen's domain, but at that point, she was nowhere in sight. Not that that fact was any comfort to him; he knew from experience that they could sneak up on you when you least expected them to.

As if to confirm his theory, he felt the hiss of hot breath on the back of his neck, settling his follicles bristling. With a flick of her sharp nails she freed him from his bonds, setting his arms lose so he could rub the soreness from his wrists. Then, she was in his face, her green eyes blazing as they stared into his. How did they do that? It was almost ghost like the way they seemed to materialise out of thin air like that.

The queen backed away a little, her eyes trailing all over him in a manner that left him feeling almost violated. 'Is he the one we seek?' she asked her henchman, her eyes never leaving him.

The Wraith handed her the scanner he had used earlier. 'He is, my queen.'

She ran the scanner over Sheppard's chest, the results eliciting a gasp of delight that sent shivers the length of his spine. 'Excellent. You are exactly what we need.'

'Well, I aim to please,' he quipped, digging deep to find the courage not to scream for mercy right there and then.

Even by Wraith queen standards, this particular female was huge. Standing amidst her and the three Wraith who had escorted him there, Sheppard felt like the runt of the litter. With a disturbingly familiar movement, the queen ran the back of her index finger down his left cheek. He wondered if they had a thing for stubble…

_Kneel!_

She didn't speak the word, but he heard it loud and clear. Though he fought to stay upright, his body betrayed him and spilled, quivering, to its knees. He cursed himself for not being strong enough to resist. Each time it happened, he promised himself he wouldn't cave, but every queen made a unique sound inside his head, and he could never prepare himself for their different timbres.

The queen continued to caress his face and neck, running her fingers back through his thick locks as if this were nothing more than a playful flirtation. That thought brought the bile rising into his throat. He seriously hoped she wasn't going to get frisky. Elegant as these females undoubtedly were, their foul breath and penchant for sucking out human life put a dampener on any ardour a man might feel toward them.

'We are pleased you could join us, Human,' she purred, bringing her mouth in close to his ear. 'You are going to help us to total domination of this galaxy…and perhaps beyond.'

She was reaching into his mind, searching his thoughts, looking for any information he carried that would be useful to them. His entire body trembled with the effort of shutting her down, closing every avenue in she opened, one after the other, but the resistance involved was exhausting. Somewhere in the caverns of his mind he could hear her voice speaking to him, coaxing him to co-operate with promises of making his stay with them less painful if he did. But he didn't listen; they were lies, and he wasn't dumb enough to fall for them. Eventually, she released her grip on him and he dropped to his hands, gasping in air to replenish his starved lungs. He hadn't even realised he'd been holding his breath.

'I enjoy the taste of your defiance, but you will give me what I want eventually,' the queen hissed.

'I don't think so,' he croaked.

She reached down, hooking a sharp nail under his chin and turning his face up to look at her. 'You will help us, whether you wish to or not. The only question is, how much will it take to make you?' Applying pressure beneath his jaw, she forced him back on his haunches, even though he didn't feel ready to straighten up yet. Then she walked behind him, bending yet again to whisper in his ear, 'You have a strength about you I have not felt before, but everyone has a limit. How many times will I feast on your insolence before I find yours?'

To his horror, she slid her feeding hand down through the neck of his T-shirt, ready to drain him. Then, she stopped, grabbing hold of his hair and pulling his head back so he had to look at her again. 'This is not the first time you have been fed upon,' she rasped.

'No…sorry, you're going to have to make do with the leftovers,' he joked, wincing as she gave his hair another tug.

'Who did this to you?'

'Funnily enough…I didn't get his name. We weren't all that friendly.'

He could feel Travis' eyes burning into him now, and he sensed her horror at the situation she had brought him to. Apparently, she wasn't so sure of her cause now that she was seeing his mistreatment first hand.

The queen pulled her hand away, much to his relief, the two masked guards hauling him back to his feet. Now, she approached Travis. She circled the woman, but didn't touch her, a fact that left Sheppard feeling even more repulsed by the way she'd treated him. 'You have served your purpose. Now you will satisfy my appetite.'

She drew back her feeding hand, ready to slam it into the woman's chest.

'You promised to release us…I did everything you asked of me,' Travis whimpered, tears pricking at her eyes as she shook before the statuesque Wraith female.

'And you believed me? You and your people are pathetic; you deserve your fate, as do all humans.'

As she moved again to feast on her an alarm sounded in the room. She looked to her lead male for an explanation of the sound. His face frozen in an expression of confusion, he crossed to a control consol and sought the answer.

'We are picking up an anomalous power signature. It is within this room.' Calibrating his scanner to the signal, he began to inspect the room, coming to a standstill before the colonel. 'It is coming from the prisoner,' he announced, scanning Sheppard until he found the exact source of the anomaly. He caught hold of his left arm and lifted it, while the scanner began to screech out a frantic alert. 'He is carrying a tracking device.'

The queen grabbed him, twisting his arm over and ordering her helper to scan it again. When the location of the transmitter was pinpointed exactly, she tore into his skin with a ragged fingernail and dug the tracker out.

Sheppard had figured out what was coming, but his legs buckled anyway. Tough he might be, but having her broad fingers ripping at his flesh was more than he could reasonably handle. To his right, he heard Travis begin to whimper, terrified now that she found herself face to face with the queen in all her unadulterated savage glory.

Once she'd removed it, the queen held the bloody microchip up in front of the trembling woman. 'Did you know about this?' she demanded, her voice ragged with anger.

Surprisingly, Travis held her head up and met the Queen's gaze. 'Yes. I might have told you had you kept you promise.'

The queen slapped her face, gouging three deep nail marks across her cheek. Then, she dropped the bloody microchip to the floor and stamped on it until it shattered.

From his position on the ground, Sheppard started to laugh. 'Looks like she screwed us all over,' he pointed out.

'You are Lantean. Your fate is recompense for what you did to my people,' Travis spat at him, clearly finding some strength in the confrontation.

'Oh, here we go again,' Sheppard grumbled, clutching his arm to stem the bleeding from his wound. 'Could you feast on her defiance now, because I'm getting a little sick of hearing about how much I deserve this?' Blood continued to ooze out through his fingers despite his efforts. It wasn't a life-threatening amount, but it was an open wound, and on a ship as grimy and sepulchral as this, that had to be bad news.

'I hope to live long enough to see you suffer first,' she threw back at him.

'What, so the whole ripping my skin with her bare hands thing wasn't good enough for you?' he growled.

'Silence,' the queen ordered. She looked back and forth between the two of them, a smile twisting up her hideous mouth. 'There are things we still need to prepare for the experiments. Put these two in a cell to consider their differences until we are ready to proceed.'

'Experiments? What experiments?' Sheppard demanded, his throat tightening as he asked the question.

Without answering, she strode from the room, as the drones grabbed the two prisoners and swept them back into the corridor. For once, Sheppard felt glad for the support, his legs still shaky after the laceration of his arm. It stung like fury, but he figured it was the least of his worries.

As the thick membranes slid in and morphed to form a barrier in front of him, Sheppard watched the Wraith walk away into the gloom. He was bordering on hyperventilating - he'd witnessed McKay do it often enough to read the signs - but he was determined to hold it together. They wouldn't break him; he would hold on and hopefully his friends, having seen the sub-dermal tracker signal before it blinked out under the heel of the Wraith queen's boot, would know where to find him. Two days - he only had to hold it together for two days at the most…as long as his friends had seen that signal.

'You should sit and get some rest. You will need all the strength you have when the queen begins her work,' Travis called from behind him, her voiced laced with bitterness.

He cringed at the sound of her voice, clenching his fists until he thought he might draw blood from his palms. Why had they put him in a cell with the woman who had well and truly shafted him? He supposed they got some twisted kick out of it. He'd been hoping she would have the good sense not to speak to him because he really didn't have anything polite to say to her. So, he maintained his silence, hopeful she would take the hint.

'Did you hear me, Sheppard?'

'Yes…unfortunately,' he grunted.

'Yet, you didn't reply.'

He turned around, leaning back against the barrier and folding his arms over his chest, blood from his wound warming the front of his T-shirt. 'Hard as this may be to believe, I'm not in the mood for making nice with you. So how about we just wait her quietly until they decide to start dissecting me, okay?'

'They won't dissect you; they need to keep you alive as a renewable source of Lantean genes.'

Annoyed he was going to have to break his own instruction to stay quiet so soon, he allowed her to draw him into conversation. 'Why do they need that? And don't tell me you can't discuss it because I am using just about every ounce of strength I've got to stop myself coming over there and kicking seven shades out of you already!'

'Your genes can operate all the Lantean technology left in this galaxy.'

'So where do the experiments come into it?' A horrible thought struck him. What if they'd learned about the experiments his people had done back on Atlantis? What of they'd found out about Michael. We're they planning to make him Wraith, just as Carson and his team had turned Michael human?

'They believe they can manipulate your DNA to make it compatible with that of the Wraith. You see, they don't want you to switch on ancient technology for them, they want to be able to do it for themselves.'

He stared at her, forgetting his fear of being altered himself, his mind immediately running through all the possibilities opened up to the Wraith by what she was suggesting. The Ancients had left evidence of their existence and beneficence all over the galaxy; the teams from Atlantis had stumbled across it numerous times, and they probably hadn't even scraped the surface of what lay hidden out there. If they found a way of making his Ancient gene compatible with their own genetic make-up the Wraith would be able to access planets thus far protected from them. And the knowledge of the galaxy he held in his head, plus the jumper now parked in their facility, meant they could begin to harvest planets previously prohibited to them.

As the truth of the scale of the devastation they could wreak dawned on him, the final shred of self-control he'd had been clinging to snapped. Travis had no hope of evading him as he launched across the cell and dragged her up by the jacket collar, slamming her against the wall.

'How many of your people are they holding here?' he growled, pinning her with his fierce gaze.

'A little over five hundred,' she squeaked, her face turning ashen.

'Five hundred, huh? You brought me all the way here to save five hundred people?'

She nodded, pulling at his fingers to try to free herself. His grip was far too rigid to allow for that.

'You have no idea what you've done, do you?' he hissed, pushing her a little harder into the wall until she winced. 'You have single-handedly delivered to the Wraith the genetic material and the technology for them to be able to cull every inhabited planet in this system. You've potentially ended millions of lives!'

'I…I…didn't think,' she whispered, digging her fingers into his wounded arm as she continued to squirm in his grip. Much as it hurt, it didn't override the fury and indignation driving him at that point.

'TELL ME SOMETHING I DON'T KNOW!' he yelled, slamming her into the wall again. 'The Ancients left a whole host of things behind when they left this system; weapons platforms, repositories of information, planetary defences, all of which the Wraith will be able to by-pass or use if they succeed with this experiment. Your stupidity might well end the freedom of all humankind in the Pegasus Galaxy! How could you not have considered the consequences when you agreed to do this?'

Travis brought her knee up sharply, and no matter how angry Sheppard was, he couldn't keep his grip on her. Her folded, keeling over into a foetal position. She stood over him, rubbing her aching collarbone. 'You would condemn me for doing the same thing you Lanteans did ten thousand years ago?'

'What are you talking about?' he groaned, still clutching his crotch in a desperate attempt to reduce the pain.

'When the Lanteans decided to flee the Pegasus Galaxy, one of their ships became separated from the rest of the fleet. It came under Wraith attack, damaging it, and so they headed for our planet, bringing the Wraith with them. They said they believed that with our combined technologies we could fight off the assault, that we could lure the Hive ship down to the planet and destroy it. But they had no intention of doing that. The Wraith began to cull, and once my people were heavily engaged in battle, the Lanteans retreated to their ship. They had been affecting repairs while we fought their battle for them, and once the Wraith realised they had found a densely populated feeding ground, they were so focused on culling us that the Lanteans simply slipped away and escaped to rejoin their fleet. We numbered millions back then; now they keep only a few of us alive, solely for their amusement. I had to try to free our people to save us from annihilation.'

Having made it onto his knees as he listened, Sheppard tried to find it in himself to forgive her for what she'd done, but he couldn't. Yet again, the Lanteans had proved themselves flawed - something that didn't surprise him. And so, a misplaced need for revenge against them had sealed his fate and possibly the fate of every other human here in the Pegasus Galaxy. With Ancient defences decommissioned, and the information from Lantean repositories at their fingertips, the Wraith could control, kill or farm every human society in the galaxy. And if they reached Atlantis…that just didn't bear thinking about.

'So this all happened ten thousand years ago?'

'Yes,' she nodded.

'Wow, you guys really know how to bear a grudge,' he grunted, slowly standing and straightening himself out.

'You have to understand why I did it. We have been imprisoned and tormented by the Wraith, generation after generation, since that day. We deserved the chance to be free.'

'Not at the cost of millions of lives!'

'It didn't stop you Lanteans -'

'I AM NOT A LANTEAN!' he yelled, running his hands back through his hair to occupy them in any other way than knocking sense into her. 'I share their genes by some distant connection, but I am not one of the people who did this to you.'

'And I am not one of the people originally betrayed, either, yet fate has brought our kind together once more. This is the time for us to take our retribution.'

'Fate didn't bring us together, your stupidity did that! You can't have retribution on the Lanteans because they're gone. They were foolish, and arrogant, and they started something in this galaxy they couldn't finish, but I doubt they ever thought in their wildest dream that the Wraith would still be torturing this planet after ten thousand years. The justice is they're gone, but you're still here. Despite all their advances they couldn't survive. I guess that means you won, after all.'

'They are gone?' she asked, her shoulders slumping at the thought of what he was telling her.

'That's right…we've had contact with a few who had been kept in stasis, but none of them survived.'

'The Wraith told us they had survived and some had returned to Atlantis. That was why I agreed to their plan. I didn't entirely trust them, but I had nothing to lose. And the thought of striking a blow back at the Lanteans was too much to resist.'

'Well congratulations. I'm the closest thing to a Lantean there is around these parts, and you've sold me out. Shame about all the innocents who'll die as a result, but, hey, at least you have some closure.' He turned his back on her, hands on hips, lips pressed together to stop him from saying too much.

She stood nervously behind him, her breathing shallow and shaky. As if suddenly realising the magnitude of her error, the overwhelming need to make him understand grasped her, and she reached out to turn him to face her.

His reaction was brutal, as he snatched hold of her wrist and twisted her arm up behind her back, pushing her face into the wall again. 'Don't touch me. Is that clear?'

'I just want you to understand that I did this for my people. I never meant for all this to follow,' she quavered. 'I'm sorry I allowed the Wraith to fool me.'

'So am I,' he grumbled, letting her go again. 'Look, I'm figuring putting us in this cell together is the queen's idea of fun. So why don't you just sit down there and keep you mouth shut, I'll go sit over here and keep quiet, too. That way, I might be able to resist the urge to take it out of your hide.'

At that point the saw the colour drain from her cheeks. She was looking straight past him not at him, so he knew what it meant. The Wraith were returning.

He turned to face them, wondering which of their prisoners they'd come to collect. The way the lead Wraith's eyes drilled into him gave him a pretty good clue.

'We are ready for you, Human,' he hissed, retracting the barrier that barred the exit.

Sheppard held his chin up high, took a deep breath and walked toward them. He knew what he had to do. He needed to make himself a big enough pain that they wanted to kill him. No Sheppard, no Ancient gene. No Ancient gene, no experiments. That way, Atlantis and the rest of the Pegasus galaxy might survive.

oooOOOooo

A sharp pain in his arm woke McKay from his slumbers. He strained his eyes open to the impatient frown of Ronon leaning over him. 'We need to contact Weir.'

'Oh…right,' he slurred, wiping away the drool that had pooled in the corner of his mouth. He straightened up and fired up his tablet to collect the latest data on their destination. Something was missing from the scans.

_Oh, God. No!_

He ran the scans again.

The signal was still glaringly obvious in its absence. 'I…I've lost him.'

All head's snapped around in his direction. 'What do you mean?' Teyla asked, slipping from her seat to stand beside him.

'Sheppard…his signal…it's gone,' he said, barely able to piece the sentence together. 'He's…he's -'

'Remain calm, Rodney,' Teyla said, an insistence in her voice that she used whenever she though he was about to panic. 'This does not mean he has come to harm.'

'Then what does it mean?' he demanded, his voice shaking in his throat as if he were verging on a breakdown.

'It means they found his tracker,' Ronon replied, matter-of-fact.

'I…suppose.'

'I am still certain he is alive,' Teyla assured him. 'He has only been among the Wraith for a short time, and I don't believe they would have brought him so far if they needed him for so little.'

McKay looked to Carson, the person he trusted most on that jumper, seeking some kind of affirmation of that theory. 'She has a point, Rodney,' he nodded. 'I think it's far more likely they removed his sub-dermal transmitter.'

'Of course, that doesn't bode to well for the rest of us,' Lorne called back. 'How are we supposed to get into the facility and get him out if they can track us?'

'This is not good,' McKay groaned, swallowing hard. 'So not good.'

A flash of light to his left caught his attention, and as he turned to see what it was, Teyla moved swiftly to catch hold of Ronon's wrist. He'd drawn his blade and was about to slice open his arm.

'I'm not going to let something that small stop me from getting to Sheppard,' Ronon insisted, snatching his hand free of her grip, and trying once again to cut his transmitter out.

Rodney felt faint as the first droplets of blood oozed to the surface of Ronon's forearm, while Teyla fought to restrain him. He'd never been good with that sort of thing. In fact, it wasn't an exaggeration to call him phobic where pain and blood were concerned. He had to look away before he puked.

It was left to Carson to be the voice of reason and call an end to the madness. 'If anyone's going to take that chip out, it'll be me, son. Now, there's still a long time before we reach the planet, so why don't we let Elizabeth know what's going on, and then she can decide what we should do? If she thinks this is a good idea, I'll get that tracker out no problem at all.'

Ronon gazed at the doctor, his expression, as it often was, totally unreadable. It could go one of two ways; he was either about to erupt, or he would back down and comply. To the relief of everyone on board, he opted for the latter.


	9. Chapter 9

*** A big thank you to everyone who has been reading and reviewing. This will be the last part for a couple of days as it is the weekend and apparently I have to spend family time with my little boys! I should have the next part up on Monday. ***

'That's bad news, Major Lorne. How do you think we should proceed?' Elizabeth said, finding the words to remain professional while her stomach plummeted into her shoes. They'd almost lost Sheppard a number of times since their arrival in the Pegasus Galaxy, but each occasion caused an awful empty sensation inside her that she struggled to contain. They were colleagues, but he had also become a good friend and confidante; she couldn't imagine running Atlantis without him by her side.

'Teyla believes the colonel is still alive and I'm inclined to agree,' he said. 'I think I speak for everyone on board when I say we want to proceed with the mission.'

Their loyalty brought a smile to her face, even though they could not see her. Sheppard was a good man, fiercely protective of all under his command, and their reaction now showed how much they appreciated that fact.

'The Daedalus is on its way, but it seems rescuing the colonel isn't going to be as straightforward as we'd hoped. They're due to arrive six hours after your ETA, and we were hoping they might be able to beam the colonel out. That doesn't seem likely now,' she told them.

'It's still good news, Dr Weir,' Lorne advised her. 'After everything Dr McKay's told us about the planet, I think we're going to need all the firepower we can get.'

'So, now that we know the Wraith can detect our sub-dermal transmitters, what are our options?' she asked.

'We cut them out,' she heard Ronon growl before anyone else could answer.

'Excuse me?'

'Maybe I can explain, Elizabeth,' she heard Carson call to her.

'I wish someone would.'

'Since we know the Wraith can find our trackers, we thought it might be prudent for us to remove our own microchips. That should render us invisible to their scanners.'

'As well as invisible to the Daedalus,' she pointed out.

'We know, Elizabeth. But we've discussed it, and we're all happy to go ahead with this -'

'Well, I wouldn't say happy, exactly…ouch!'

Elizabeth tried to suppress the smirk spreading across her face at the sound of Rodney's protest. She suspected Ronon had been the one to silence him; no one else would have done it so painfully.

'All right. If you're all in agreement, I'm not going to stop you. But I hope you understand just how dangerous the rescue mission you're proposing to mount is. The crews of the other jumpers don't have surgeons on board, so they aren't going to be able to join you on the planet's surface. It'll be just the eight of you in a Wraith complex. Are you sure you can handle that?'

'No,' Rodney whimpered, 'but we know we have to try.'

'All right, she said, folding her arms over her chest. 'If this is what you really want to do, then you have my permission to go ahead and remove the trackers, Carson. The sooner the better, I suppose.'

'Aye. It'll give us all time to become accustomed to the discomfort before we reach the complex.'

'What? You didn't say anything about there being any pain involved,' she heard Rodney squeak. 'I don't work well when I'm in pain…in fact, I'd go so far as to say I have a pathological fear of pain. Once when I was a boy, my mother -'

'Rodney, I didn't say pain, I said discomfort. I'm slicing through the top few layers of your epidermis; the incision will be no more than a centimetre long. Trust me, it's not like I'm taking your arm off!'

'All right, but do mine first because if I have to think about it any longer than that, I might change my mind!'

'Sounds like you have some work to do, Carson. Contact me again in two hours, Major Lorne.'

'Will do, Dr Weir. Lorne out,' he said, and the communication ended.

Elizabeth began the lonely walk back to her office. She had a pile of paperwork stacking up that needed to be checked and signed off, but she just couldn't concentrate. She hated it whenever a member of the expedition was in trouble, but when it was Sheppard…The next forty hours and more were likely to be the most excruciating of her life.

oooOOOooo

_Why are the Wraith and everything around them so damned slimy, _Sheppard wondered as he was prodded and cajoled along the passageways to another part of the building. There was something about Wraith architecture that reminded him of decaying corpses - like whales washed up on a beach, their carcasses rotting in the sun. Everywhere around them he could see what looked like strips of raw flesh hanging from exposed bones; the place would have given him the creeps even if it was empty.

'You know, you could pick the place up a bit if you're expecting guests,' he drawled, finding comfort in the sound of his own bad jokes.

The lead Wraith merely looked at him as if he were something he'd left on his plate after lunch and continued to follow in silence.

Sheppard didn't know why, but he had the feeling this was the guy he needed to target if he was going to get all suicidal. If he was honest with himself, the idea mad him sick to the pit of his stomach; he'd offered himself up for suicide runs before, but most times he was pretty much guaranteed an instantaneous and relatively painless death at the end of things. Not so when feeding oneself to the Wraith. It would be neither instantaneous nor painless, but it was a necessity.

'I bet working for a Wraith queen really sucks, doesn't it, if you'll excuse the pun? I mean, she gets to sit around on her skinny ass all day while you guys do all the work, and then she reaps all the rewards and glory. Doesn't seem fair somehow.'

'You will be silent,' the Wraith grated, not bothering to look at him.

'I didn't hear you disagreeing,' Sheppard coaxed, pushing him still further.

'I told you to be silent.'

Without missing a beat, Sheppard picked up the conversation again. 'We humans don't do the silent thing all that well when we're nervous. We like to talk to fill the threatening silences; that way, we can pretend they're not there. Whereas you guys, now you guys have the whole quietly menacing thing down pat -'

The Wraith grabbed him and pushed him into the wall, his hand resting on Sheppard's chest. 'I will not ask you to be quiet again.' Then, he let him go.

_You need to push harder, John, _Sheppard realised, but unlike McKay, persistent gabbling didn't come naturally to him. As the guards jabbed him in the back to get him moving again, he tried to dredge up another idea for a conversation.

'D' you guys have anything like motorbikes where you come from? Fantastic things, and with the whole leather look you have going here, you would look seriously cool on the back of a Harley. I could just see you now, cruising at ninety, hair blowing in the wind -'

A crack on the back of his neck with the butt a stun weapon told him just what they thought of that suggestion. Deciding the insanely irritating chitchat angle was probably beyond him, he realised he had to try a different tack. That was why he spun round unexpectedly and threw a right hook at the Wraith bringing up the rear of their group.

The male went down, taken completely by surprise, leaving Sheppard free to sprint back the way they'd come. A stunner blast hit the wall beside him, making him flinch, but he kept going. He was going to fight them all the way, and who knew, maybe he'd get lucky and actually escape.

When the next shot hit him in the back and brought him to the floor, he realised how optimistic that hope had been. Seconds later, the lead Wraith was on him, flinging him onto his back, as green gloop oozed from his injured mouth. 'This will not work, Human,' he growled in Sheppard's face. 'You can anger me as much as you please, but I will not kill you…yet.'

The colonel's brow stung, and dabbing at it with the back of his hand, he realised he'd grazed it as he'd slid to a stop on his face. Just another scrape to add to the growing list. Annoyed that his behaviour was so transparent to his captors, he allowed the male to yank him back to his feet, then, properly restrained by the two Wraith grunts, he was dragged to their destination.

When they arrived at their destination he was unceremoniously thrown to the floor, and as he lifted his head, the long skirts of the Wraith queen were the first things he spotted. While still trying to figure out how she'd got there so quickly, the guards lifted him off the floor and planted him on his feet in front of her. They tossed him round as easily as if he was made of paper; he didn't enjoy the feeling of vulnerability it left him with, but he figured he was going to have to accept it.

The queen ran her eyes over his face, spotting the injury. She seemed to sniff the air around him; he figured he didn't smell all that sweet after two days of incarceration, but who knew what odours the Wraith found appealing. She reached out to touch his bloodied brow, but he flinched away from her hand - a response that clearly annoyed her. She hissed in his face, the putrid stench of her breath almost setting him gagging. Apparently, they didn't have the equivalent of mouthwash in this galaxy.

'You will not pull away from me,' she hissed, grabbing his face to hold his head still while she touched the graze. She rubbed his blood between her thumb and fingers. 'Humans are so fragile, so beautiful, so full of life. It is hard to resist…'

She caught hold of the neck of his T-shirt, and with her sharp talons tore through it, exposing enough of his chest to make it easier to feed.

'My queen -' the lead Wraith called to her, but the look she shot him told him to stay back.

Her fingers found the faint scars left from his previous experience, her nails dragging at his chest hair as they slid into the same position. He felt the very tips of her nails prick the surface of his skin, but she kept her palm raised away from him.

His chest heaved as panic gripped him. This Wraith was cruel, skilled in tormenting humans after ten thousand years of practice. He cursed the way he was reacting, his breath catching and his body trembling despite his best efforts to contain his fear.

'Why were you fed upon before?' she asked.

'Why don't you ask your little helper back in the cells? She was on Atlantis when it happened - she'll know all about it.'

'I suspect Orial's time of compliance is ended,' the queen mused, her eyes wandering over his face as she drank in his emotions.

Orial, so that was her name. He'd been too pissed off at her to ask, but it helped to differentiate between her and the doctor she had somehow posed as. 'Well, I'm not feeling all that compliant either, so I guess you'll have to use your imagination.'

The queen frowned. 'In time, you will tell me everything you know.'

'That shouldn't take long,' he quipped.

She pressed a little harder, her nails now breaking the surface layers of his skin. 'Will you not beg me for mercy?' she purred, bringing her face in close to examine the mask of calm he refused to drop.

'Nope.'

'Good…I prefer my food not to attempt to dissuade me. Perhaps you do not think I will feed on you?'

'Well,' he panted, forcing himself to take a few deep breaths before continuing. 'I'm thinking if you do, you'll be missing a fairly vital ingredient for your experiments.'

Smiling in a thoroughly disconcerting way, she leaned in a little closer. 'I don't need to kill you to feed. Your own body shows the evidence of that.'

She pushed harder still on his chest, setting trickles of blood free to run down and soak into his ruined shirt. The trembles he'd been trying to suppress grew worse at the thought of what was to come. Her palm was dangerously close to his chest now; perhaps if she began to feed, she wouldn't be able to stop - that seemed his best hope now. More defiance, that was what was needed. Apparently, she enjoyed the taste of that.

'Didn't your mother ever tell you it's wrong to play with your food?' he asked, narrowing his eyes at her in challenge.

Surprisingly, she laughed. It certainly wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting. He hadn't thought she would understand the reference, but perhaps the Wraith had a sense of humour they'd thus far kept hidden from him. Somehow, he couldn't see them entering the stand-up circuit, though.

The queen let her hand drop away. 'But how else would I find my entertainment?' she asked, her grin broadening until it seemed its sheer malevolence would split her face in two.

A glance at her assistant sent him springing into action, taking up position behind a control panel. Lights beyond her fired into life, highlighting some kind of nightmarish laboratory unit, at the centre of which sat a chair almost organic looking chair, waiting for an occupant. He suspected it was meant for him.

'Perhaps I can find amusement in other ways,' she grinned, her snake eyes burning into his as a wave of fear swept over him.

He didn't think about it, just reacted on pure instinct, butting the queen so she fell back and gave him the room he needed to move. Throwing his full weight at one of the masked guards, he knocked him to the floor and wrestled his gun from him, stunning him unconscious without missing a beat. Narrowly avoiding a blast from the remaining guard, he fired on him, then on the queen's assistant as he tried to intervene. Two of the shots he fired at the moving target missed, hitting the lab equipment and causing a power overload. Sparks flew out, green and blue, their brilliance burning an impression on his retinas and temporarily blinding him, forcing him to shield his eyes.

In that instant the queen was on him, her feeding hand finding its target as she forced him down to his knees. She threw her head back and let out a roar of satisfaction as he felt his life force being torn away, seeping out through the wounds she had created. Every bone, every muscle, every tendon and organ felt as if they were being wrung of every last drop of energy. He tried to shut out the pain, thinking over and over that this was the only way it could end - he had to give up his life to prevent them from gaining their advantage in the galaxy. The agony and strangeness of the sensation left him so disorientated that he didn't realise she had not only fed on but replenished him, until she broke contact, pushing him onto his back as she stepped on his stomach and pinned him there.

'You will not escape us so easily, Human,' she growled, digging her heel in and forcing him to curl up beneath her. 'I have others I can feed upon without needing to destroy you. But I will enjoy breaking your spirit, none-the-less.'

As the guards stirred and clambered back to their feet, she stooped and caught hold of Sheppard's shirtfront, hauling him back to his unsteady legs. She had to hold onto him to stop him folding into a crumpled heap. 'We have repairs to do here. Return him to his cell until we are ready,' she ordered.

Still dizzy from his draining and restoration, Sheppard gave no resistance, just allowed her thugs to drag him, feet trailing in his wake, back down the dark and dismal corridors to his equally dreary prison room. So he hadn't stopped them, but he'd at least slowed them down. With any luck, that took him a few hours closer to rescue.


	10. Chapter 10

**** Well, here's the next chapter, as promised. I hope you all enjoy it. I've been feeling inspired today and almost have the next chapter finished, too. And there's still nine hours till bedtime! ****

Teyla woke with a start, choking and clawing at her chest as if fighting off an attack. Ronon instantly restrained her, talking her through it until she came to her senses. They all knew the signs; Taylor had somehow connected with the Wraith.

Carson added his ministrations, calming the shaken Athosian until she was able to explain what she'd seen.

'I saw a Wraith queen; she was threatening the colonel, but he fought to free himself. She fed upon him and restored him as punishment for his insolence.'

Ronon's top lip quivered in a sneer of pure hate, and he stalked away to the back of the jumper, giving himself space to come to terms with his anger.

'What? Is he…is he all right? McKay stammered, his hand moving to his chest as if subconsciously protecting himself from the mere thought of it.

'He is injured, but alive. I sense they have a great purpose for him. They will not kill him willingly…he is too valuable to them.'

'Any ideas what that purpose might be?' Lorne asked, turning in his seat to face her.

Teyla shook her head sadly. 'I could not see that much…perhaps as we get closer to the planet the answers will come to me.'

'I'm not sure it's safe for you to be connecting to them,' Rodney pointed out, his face frozen in abject terror. 'I mean, if they work out we're looking for him, they'll come after us, right?'

'I am not doing this by choice, Rodney,' Teyla assured him. 'The visions are coming to me voluntarily.'

'All the same,' Carson interrupted. 'Rodney may have a point. We know the connection can go both ways. Is there any way you can make yourself less receptive?'

She shrugged her slender shoulders. 'I have never needed to try.'

'She doesn't need to,' Ronon grunted, joining them again. 'Teyla is the closest thing to a tactical advantage we have. Since we can't track where Sheppard is in that building, we might need her to take a look around for us in advance of heading in there.'

Lorne nodded slowly, considering the suggestion. 'That might work. We'll need you to sever the connection if you suspect the Wraith can feel you, but it might help us to locate the colonel.'

Rodney looked as if he might actually choke at the thought of using Teyla that way again. 'Have you people forgotten what happened last time we did this? Teyla was taken over and we struggled to get her back!'

'We're aware of that, Dr McKay, but would you prefer to go into that complex completely blind, or take a risk and potentially cut down the length of time we have to spend there?' Lorne asked him.

'Well, it's not much of a choice, is it?' he spat. 'It's like asking me to cut off either my right arm or my left leg. Either one will probably kill me.'

'Exactly,' Ronon growled. 'But whatever happens, at least we're better prepared to defend ourselves than Sheppard is.'

Clearly feeling guilty for thinking of himself again, Rodney averted his gaze, then nodded. 'Of course, you're right. We have to try something.'

Teyla felt some sympathy for the scientist. She had been a leader of her people and a warrior for many years. She had face the threat of the Wraith all her life, as had Ronon, but it was certain Rodney had never thought his trip to Atlantis would involve such dangers. His brilliance could not be questioned, and the expedition would have struggled without him, but at times like this he seemed like nothing more than a lost and frightened child. When backed into a corner, he defended himself with sarcasm and insults, but they didn't hide the fear at the root of it. At least not from her. That was why she allowed Rodney to rail when he needed to. Once it was out of his system, he always came around.

She reflected on what a diverse collection of people her team was. Rodney - intelligent beyond anyone's comprehension, but scared of his own shadow; Ronon - undoubtedly damaged by the things the Wraith had done to the people of Sateda and his time as a runner, his bitterness bubbling just beneath the surface like a sea of molten lava that could erupt at any time; Teyla herself - calm and collected, able to communicate at all levels and engender trust and hope in people when all seemed lost. Then there was John. Though she had known him for years, she suspected she hadn't even scratched the surface with him. Certainly, he was loyal and protective, with a wicked sense of humour that was born out by the constant glint in his eye, but there were moments - moments when he thought no one was watching him - when his eyes would lose that customary sparkle and he would seem weighed down with concerns he simply couldn't share. The torture at Kolya's hands only seemed to have exacerbated that withdrawal; she feared what this new encounter with the Wraith would do to him.

Glancing at her watch, she saw they were still thirty-two hours away from the planet. How much more would he have to endure before they could pull him to safety?

oooOOOooo

The sensation of water hitting his sandblasted throat caused John to cough and splutter himself back to consciousness. He didn't remember passing out, but he didn't remember making it back to his cell either, so figured it had happened somewhere en-route.

He got the feeling someone was cradling his head - had he been rescued?

That thought made his eyes snap open, only to find Orial gazing down at him from the gloom of their captivity. As he immediately tried to put space between them, she restrained him with ease.

'Do not try to move. You are too weak.'

He still struggled, and in the end she moved herself aside, laying his head gently on the floor. Every cell in his body ached; even the thought of moving made him feel sick. Whether he wanted to get up or not, it looked like he lad little choice but to stay right where he was. 'How long have I been out?' he croaked.

His cellmate looked at her watch. 'A little under four of your Earth hours.'

'Guess I screwed up their machines pretty good,' he said with a slight smirk, regretting it as even his jaw muscles ached at the movement.

'What happened?' she asked.

He lifted his head a little way off the floor to test the pain levels. They were still too high to warrant moving at this point. 'What do you care, Orial?'

She looked surprised to hear him speak her name. 'You know what I am called?'

'Yeah, the queen and I had a cosy chat, just before I broke her nose.'

'Then that is why she punished you,' she sighed. 'I should clean that wound again.'

She knelt beside him, tipping some of the contents of a cup of water onto a strip of material she'd torn from her jacket, and reaching out to dab at his still oozing chest wound.

'No, what you should do is keep your hands to yourself,' he told her, batting her attempts to help away. He winced as pain shot through his bicep and shoulder.

'They brought me some food and water…not much, but I saved some for you,' she said, looking embarrassed by his rejection of her assistance.

'Yeah? You shouldn't have bothered. I couldn't eat right now even if I wanted to.' Digging deep, he forced himself into a sitting position and shuffled back to lean against the wall. It hurt like hell, but he didn't feel quite so vulnerable sitting up like that.

'You are in pain?'

'That's a dumb question,' he grunted.

She caught hold of his hand and pushed the rag into it. 'Hold this to your wound. It will ease the discomfort a little.'

'That's the least of it,' he muttered, but he did as she suggested. The cold water did cool the burning sensation around the injury, but he still felt like he'd jumped out of an aeroplane at 10,000 feet without a parachute.

He closed his eyes and waited for the wave of nausea his movement had caused to pass. When he opened them again, Orial was beside him, her expression a portrait of concern.

'Don't go thinking this makes us friends,' he warned her. 'You have a hell of a lot of ground to make up before that happens.'

'Does it hurt far more than last time?' she asked, ignoring his snipe, as her eyes wandered down to the cloth he clutched over the feeding mark.

'Well, it didn't hurt at all after that Wraith fixed me up last time, so yeah, it does.'

'She withholds the enzyme.'

'Huh?'

'When that other Wraith restored you, it was an act of camaraderie. He must have released some of his enzyme into your body to help you heal. When the intention is punishment, they can withhold the enzyme, releasing only enough to help you survive, but not recover quickly.'

He nodded, too tired to keep his eyes open. Instead, he leaned his head back against the wall and hoped the world would stop tilting soon.

'It does get easier…eventually,' he heard Orial say. 'You learn to let go…to stop fighting against them…and when you can detach yourself and let go of what makes you '_you', _you become almost numb to her tortures.'

There was an emptiness in her tone he'd never heard before, and it touched him more than he'd expected it to. But he couldn't let go of his anger, he couldn't let go of his fight. He needed both of those things to face down the Wraith and make them react the way he needed them to. But right now, he felt like slipping into unconsciousness again.

'You said you didn't understand how I infiltrated your base,' Orial said, as if trying to help him focus.

He forced his eyes open a fraction. 'No, I don't. But right at this second, I couldn't give a damn, either.'

'There was a real Dr Travis. It wasn't always me.'

Interest piqued, he decided this was something he wanted to hear after all. 'Go on.'

'The Wraith have been watching Atlantis for some time. Centuries ago, they planted sensors on the sunken city so that when the Lanteans returned they would know. When the city rose, they began to monitor trips made out of the city via the Stargate, observing your people. It soon became clear to them that not everyone in the city was a Lantean, but that you most certainly were. Once they decided who they needed, they picked someone inconspicuous to replace. Dr Travis…the botanist. Then I was chosen; I was the member of my race who resembled her the most so needed the least alteration to make me her double. Then, they replaced her with me, and I have been watching you ever since, waiting for the ideal time to lure you away from your base.'

It suddenly dawned on Sheppard the exact moment she was talking about. 'The attack on her team when she was on H5S- 782,' he gasped. 'That's when they planted you. I helped you back to the jumper.'

Orial nodded. 'In a first sweep by the Wraith craft, Dr Travis was removed, then, on the second pass, I was put in her place.'

'That explains why you were so shaken up. So, what happened to Dr Travis…no, actually. Don't answer that. It was a pretty redundant question.'

'It took a long time to get up the courage to see this through,' she confided. 'The people of Atlantis weren't what I was expecting to find at all.'

'What were you expecting?'

She shrugged. 'The Wraith had convinced us the Lanteans were heartless, and we had no reason to believe otherwise. What I saw on Atlantis, what I saw of you, showed me something quite different.'

'Not enough to get you to change your plans,' he pointed out.

'Believe me, I thought long and hard about it. Atlantis made me feel safe for the first time in my life. It would have been so easy to stay and enjoy the sanctuary it provided, but I couldn't leave my people to suffer the consequences of my failure to fulfil the Wraith queen's plan.'

'I guess I can't hold that against you...' he muttered, too exhausted to be angry with her anymore.

Without asking, she tipped her cup of water to his lips again. This time he didn't complain; he was too weak and too thirsty not to accept the gesture. He hated being like this and wanted to know how long it would last. But he didn't dare ask Orial; if she told him this feeling lasted for days it would only deflate him and he had to stay strong. He decided to give it half and hour and then he was going to have to seriously pull himself together, whether he liked it or not.

Unfortunately, the Wraith had other ideas. Just as his eyes fell shut and he began to drift away into slumber, the door of the cell retracted and in walked the lead male Wraith with six subordinates. Sheppard gaped at the bunch, unable to think of a single witty remark about the fact there were so many of them this time - and there had to be tons of good things to say if his head wasn't so messed up. _C'mon, John. Don't show 'em you're scared, _he urged himself, but as the lead male stood over him and let our a vicious hiss, his heart let him down and skipped a panicked beat.

His eyes wandered down to the stunner the Wraith held in his hand, and then up to the larger stunners carried by the guards patiently waiting for instruction.

'The queen wishes to speak with you again,' he rasped, following it with a broad grin that turned Sheppard's blood to ice. Beside him, he sensed rather than saw Orial shuffling away from him, putting some distance between them. 'Will you come quietly?'

'Told you before; I'm no so good at the whole quiet thing,' he quipped.

The shot from the stunner gave him a brief relief from the agony his body already endured.

By the time he was thrown face down on the grubby floor in the laboratory, the numbing effect of the stun was already beginning to wear off. Not that a stunning was pain-free; it hurt like hell, but in a milder massive-electric-shock kind of way that he could ride…once he came round. Now the bone deep aches were returning, yet despite that he struggled to his feet.

The queen was standing some distance away, arms folded over her chest as she regarded him. He stared back at her, wondering how long it would be before his legs gave up on him.

Slowly, she sauntered toward him. _Kneel._

The unspoken instruction echoed inside his throbbing head, and his knees thudded onto the floor. _Thank God, _he thought, _they were headed that way anyway._

'We require information from you,' she hissed, stroking his cheek as they always had to. 'Once we have perfected out experiments, we need to know the best source of information on Lantean technologies and planets rich with human life.'

'I bet you do,' he grunted, feeling her dipping into his mind as she spoke to him. Determined to keep her from finding anything vital, he imagined up a brick wall in there, blocking her out.

'You are still resisting,' she purred, dragging her nails down his neck toward the feeding mark she'd left on him. 'I see your punishment wasn't enough.'

'I don't know; as punishments go it was pretty impressive, but the whole saving me at the end kind of takes the edge off things.' Tremors set in throughout his body caused by the fight going on in his mind. He had to keep her out. He wasn't going to give her anything she could use against them - he wouldn't let his people down.

'You still do not fear me?' she asked, her eyes searching his face for signs of the true answer.

'Well, yeah, you have the whole space vampire thing going for you, which is pretty creepy, but like I said, if I know you're just going to reset me back to normal at the end of it all, what's to worry about?'

'There is much for you to worry about,' she assured him. 'You have no idea of the degrees of pain I can put you through to get the answers that I need.'

He gave her a grim smile. 'I think I have some.'

Beyond her, he noticed other more senior ranking males working on the laboratory unit. He wasn't an expert on these things, especially not where Wraith tech was involved, but it looked to him like they were finalising repairs and running through their programmes. He'd seen it done on Atlantis enough times when things failed, as they often did. That's what you got when you tried to combine twenty-first century technology with Ancient machinery that had stood dormant for ten thousand years. A quick reboot rarely did the trick.

'We have heard that there are ancient repositories of information spread about this galaxy and others. Do you know there locations?'

In his mind, Sheppard stood behind the brick wall he'd built, sheltering himself and his thoughts from her. 'Nope, sorry. Haven't come across one of those,' he answered honestly.

The queen leaned in close, watching him, and the closer she got, the more his head hurt. It would be so easy to give in to her, to let her have some small piece of information that might not do too much harm, but he knew if he gave an inch, she wouldn't stop probing him for more. He couldn't believe he already felt so ready to give up the struggle. He was definitely going soft. More sparring with Ronon and Teyla, that was what he needed. _Pull yourself together, John, _he ordered himself.

'But you do know of planets hosting ancient technology. These would be an excellent starting point, wouldn't you agree?'

She bore down on him, stroking his face seductively as she probed deeper into his memories. In his mental image, the cement between the bricks of his walls began to crumble, raining dust down on him.

The queen placed a solid hand on his shoulder and squeezed as she pressed her fingers against his temple. 'I have never felt strength like this. Why do you protect others when you know it will cost you so dearly?'

'Because I already have enough issues in my life; I don't need another guilt trip over this, too.'

'Guilt? I sense this is an emotion that troubles you deeply. But what do you have to be guilty for, Human? Perhaps the fact that you awoke the Wraith almost single-handedly from their hibernation?'

Sheppard pressed his lips together hard as the burning pain in his head increased. She was searching for the exact memory he possessed of that moment, her talons clawing and scraping at his defences until a small hole appeared in the mental wall he'd constructed against her. He tried to pull his physical form free of her, but she held him fast in her grip. She obviously sensed his defences caving in; he had to think of something else to keep her out.

_Well, you're my friend_

_And can you see_

_Many times we've been out drinking_

_Many times we've shared our thoughts_

In his mind, the queen was through the wall and circling him, frowning and tilting her head as she listened to his thoughts. 'What is this?'

_Did you ever, ever notice, the kind of thoughts I got_

_Well you know I have a love, for everyone I know_

_And you know I have a drive, for life I won't let go_

His imaginary self walked her, an angry smile spreading across his face as he saw her mounting confusion. Her expression passed through varying degrees of uncertainty and annoyance as she listened to his puzzling thoughts, trying to fathom something useful from them.

_But sometimes this opposition, comes rising up in me_

_This terrible imposition, comes blacking through my mind_

'Enough of this nonsense,' she screeched, ripping her mind free of his and backing away from him. 'What words are these you fill your mind with?'

He swayed at the force with which she tore her mental and physical presence away from him. 'Not a Johnny Cash fan, huh?' he panted, trying to catch his breath. 'I guess he's an acquired taste, but he might grow on you.'

'You will not do that again!' she raged, pushing her face into his.

'Actually, I've got a lot more where that came from,' he assured her.

She hissed, making him flinch, but then a voice from behind her diverted her attention. 'We are ready for him, my Queen.'

Her face brightened at the news, her glee and cruelty shining in her snake eyes as they bored into him. 'At last, Human, you will now do something that helps our cause.'

Her Wraith assistant stepped forward, carrying a loaded syringe much like the one Orial had used on him aboard her craft. Sheppard wanted to get up and fight, but the feeding and mind probing had sapped any strength he had. As the guards moved forward to restrain him, he put up token resistance even though he knew it was futile. But he couldn't let them think he was weakening; he wouldn't give them the pleasure.

The Wraith jabbed the syringe into his neck and released its contents. Within seconds his head was spinning, his pain reduced, but he didn't pass out as he had hoped to. It seemed the queen wanted him awake for whatever she had in store. As his bones turned to rubber, he felt the guards lifting him and carrying him toward the chair waiting for him beyond the queen. His mind was muddy, clouded, but he still strained against them as felt cold, clammy hands pulling at his clothes, stripping him of his last defences and his dignity before depositing him in the seat where tendrils of Wraith organic tissue extended and wrapped all around him, cocooning him hard against the chair and trapping him in place.'

'Begin collecting the samples,' the queen ordered, standing close by as her assistants fired the unit into activity.

Somewhere inside his head, Sheppard could hear a voice shouting at him to fight, but he had nothing left to give. Anger welled inside him, anger at himself rather than his captors. He'd failed to prevent the Wraith fulfilling their aim; he'd let everyone depending on him down.

The machines began their work, piercing, drilling and slicing at sections of his body in a relentless and systematic process of collecting and storing his Ancient DNA. Even through the haze of the drugs they'd used to prevent his resistance the pain registered, as time after time he was punctured and lacerated in the name of science. Against his wishes, the constant bombardment finally drew a reluctant scream from his compressed lungs.

As unconsciousness eventually wrapped him in her comforting arms, he took the image of the queen's satisfied smile into the stifling blackness.


	11. Chapter 11

After struggling to stay awake in her office for several hours, Elizabeth finally succumbed to her brain's insistence that she get some rest. Giving Chuck the instruction to keep up the two-hourly contact with Lorne's jumper and let her know of any significant developments, she trudged heavy-legged back to her quarters and threw herself onto her bed. Just a few hours - four at most. That was all she needed, and then she'd be firing on all cylinders. God, she wished she was out there on that jumper so she knew exactly what was happening. This sitting around waiting for updates was agonising.

Lorne had advised her of his team's decision to use Teyla's ability to link with the Wraith to try to locate Sheppard once they were closer to the planet. Though she understood their reasoning, the idea filled her with dread. She had been there when Teyla had linked with their enemy before, seen them use her to attack her friends, albeit temporarily, and she hated to think what damage the warrior woman could do in the confines of a puddle jumper. As a result, she'd instructed them to be fully armed whenever they knew she was in contact with the Wraith, and Ronon had promised to stun her and break the link at the first sign of trouble. Teyla herself had assured her she felt more able to control the connection than she had that first time, but Elizabeth remained unconvinced. Since Teyla hadn't had chance to put her skills into practice since the siege, she couldn't begin to imagine why she felt so confidant of that fact. Teyla had been undertaking meditations designed to increase her mental agility, but that was an entirely different matter than going one to one with an actual Wraith mind.

As she lay back and closed her eyes, the image of Sheppard being fed upon by the Wraith prisoner in Kolya's compound popped into her head, forcing her eyes back open. She hated to think of him enduring that kind of pain again so soon after his torture at the hands of the Genii. She still felt an immense burden of guilt about what he'd endured then. The fact she'd watched from the safety of Atlantis while his life had been stolen in stages often gave her pause for thought, mostly when Sheppard sank into a quiet contemplation when she imagined he was remembering the horror himself - among other regrets he bore without complaint. He had ordered her not to give Kolya anything, but the subsequent torture they'd all witnessed made her question herself and the correctness of her decision whenever she thought about what Kolya had done. Laden was an important ally, but not more important to Atlantis than Sheppard himself. The colonel belonged in that place more than any of them; he was one of the main reasons their expedition had been such a success.

As she tried once again to sleep, she found herself wondering if being restored had made the experience easier for him this time. She hated to think of him languishing in a Wraith cell alone, wondering when they would come to punish him again. But she was sure they hadn't taken him just to torture him; there was some other more sinister reason for targeting Sheppard, and she suspected his Ancient genes, the reason she'd been so keen for him to join her team on this venture, were what the Wraith really wanted. So, what exactly did they need him for?

That thought continued to trouble her until she eventually gave in to her exhaustion.

oooOOOooo

Pain nagged Sheppard into reluctant consciousness some considerable time after the experiments had finished. He tried to work out exactly where it hurt most, but soon realised that was pretty much everywhere. He willed his eyes open and took time to get his bearings, finding he was now lying on a cold, slightly damp floor, staring up at a ceiling that had once house a multitude of hibernating Wraith, but whose chambers now sat empty. Scraps of flayed skin, clinging to the skeletal honeycomb structures, billowed almost elegantly in the cool air circulating around the building, giving him goose bumps on his goose bumps. What he wouldn't give for a cup of coffee to warm him up right now.

His clothes cloyed to the skin on his back, adding to his general sense of malaise. Was that sweat or just general grunge from this fleshy, putrid construction soaking up into his uniform? He didn't actually want to give that idea any thought, so pushed it to the back of his mind and focused on working out what was going on.

Oddly, he thought he could smell food. His stomach was cramping and he wondered if his addled brain cells were torturing him with imaginings of meals that weren't really there. No, the smell seemed real enough, so what was that all about? Another attempt to get him to talk by playing on his hunger? Well, he'd been hungrier than this in the past; he was a long way from talking yet.

Rolling his head to the right left him momentarily dizzy, but showed no one else in sight. It seemed odd that they would leave him alone like this; did they really view him as so insignificant a threat? Who was he kidding? He _was_ no threat to them. The queen could snap him like a twig if she chose to. The only reason he was still breathing and trying not to think of what he was lying in was that he was worth more to her alive at this point than the physical benefit she would gain from consuming his life force.

Allowing his head to loll the opposite way, he spotted a table, vast in proportions, although he suspected that was partly because he was flat on his back gazing up at it, giving it an exaggerated perspective. An empty chair sat only a few feet away from him. He thought about using it as a crutch to get him vertical again, but he wasn't sure he could get to it if he even wanted to.

Once his brain stopped swaying, he lifted his head to look down at himself and assess the damage. He had been redressed, although rather sloppily, his trousers and belt unfastened and his boots unlaced. He allowed the thought that zips, buckles and laces might confuse such an advanced race to amuse him for a while before commanding his arms into motion to fasten himself back into his trousers at least. The laces could wait until later; he doubted they would hinder his movement any more than it had already been affected.

Rolling onto his knees, the various specific pain points spread across his body throbbed into life. Thankfully, the ache of the feeding seemed considerably reduced, but instead he had small cuts to both his arms, the sensation of bruising to areas of his stomach and thighs, aching in his hips, and his left eye stung as if someone had rubbed grit in it. _Could be worse, _he tried to convince himself.

Deciding he couldn't just lie there and wait for someone to show up and beat the crap out of him, he decided to follow through his plan to use the chair for support, crawling in its direction and pulling himself up on it. As he raised his head above the tabletop, the queen's face loomed into view, making his heart thud so hard against his ribcage he thought it might break free. Okay, so maybe they did think he was too dangerous to leave alone, after all.

'Take a seat, Human,' she ordered, and he felt his body immediately compelled to do as she commanded. Too frazzled to resist, he went with the flow, figuring it didn't sound too painful.

For a moment they sat unmoving at opposite ends of the table, regarding each other in silent deliberation. The surface had been set with an array of mouth-watering foods that smelled even better than they looked - fruit, vegetables, meats and breads all begging for a taker. Though ravenously hungry, Sheppard made no attempt to reach for the delights on offer. He didn't want to appear too desperate.

'Will you not dine with me?' the queen asked, a smile curving her thin lips as she rose and walked toward where he sat.

Sheppard looked down at the elaborately engraved silver plate in front of him, then back up at the queen who now stood beside him. 'This is a pretty impressive spread. What have I done to deserve this?'

'Call it a celebration. Already, my scientists are working with your Lantean genes, trying to make them compatible with the thousands of Wraith embryos I hold in stasis in their eggs. Soon, your DNA will mix with theirs and my new army will be born.'

His eyes bugged at the thought of the sheer numbers she was talking about. He hadn't imagined she had anything on quite such a grand scale in mind. 'No offence, but in that case, I'll pass,' he told her.

She simply sneered down at him. 'Refusal is not an option.'

Swallowing down the ball of nerves that suddenly blocked his throat, he looked back at the food spread out in front of him. 'Well, if you put it like that…'

'What would you like? I will serve you.'

_Serve me? _Sheppard eyed her dubiously. He seriously doubted Wraith queens served anyone voluntarily. 'Why?'

'You are weak. If you are to eat, you will need my assistance.'

That was enough of a prompt to get Sheppard on his feet and reaching across the table for whatever food was within his reach. Much as it hurt him to do it, he wasn't about to confirm her assertions that he was completely helpless.

Narrowing her eyes, the queen rumbled low in her throat and resumed her seat at the other end of the table as he began to eat. Even though he was hungry, the effort of chewing and swallowing proved almost too much for him. Still, he forced the food down, not keen to find out exactly how the queen would impose sustenance on him if he didn't.

The queen watched him from her removed position, her hard gaze drilling into him, reminding once again of how much he hated people watching him eat. As he chewed on a slice of meat, she spoke up.

'Are you enjoying that, Human?'

He shrugged. 'Food's not bad; company could be better.'

'You like the taste of the meat?' she asked, dipping her head toward the remnants he still held in his fingers.

He looked at it, wondering why she cared so much. 'I guess,' he replied cagily, noticing her smirk as she asked the question.

'That is good. Orial will be glad her death wasn't in vain.'

Sheppard spat out what remained in his mouth, almost spilling his guts in the process.

The Wraith queen threw back her head and let out a hearty laugh as she watched him choke out what he hadn't yet swallowed. 'Pay no attention, Human. Orial remains safely in her cell. We would not waste human flesh on one who can survive on more base animals.'

Still shaking from the shock of thinking he'd eaten his cellmate, Sheppard glared at her from the other end of the vast dining table. 'Wow, so that's what passes for a sense of humour among the Wraith, is it?' he grunted.

She stopped laughing, the smile sliding off her face. 'Eat, Human. You will need all your strength to help us again later.'

Playing it safe, Sheppard picked up something resembling bread and proceeded to pick at it. Nothing would convince him to eat any more of the meat now, even if he found out for certain that Orial was still alive. Each mouthful of food sank like concrete in his stomach as the queen watched on, determined to ensure he ate what she considered an adequate amount. It suddenly struck him that this was by far the weirdest dinner date he'd ever had, and he'd had some howlers in his time. Back in his youth, his brother had set him up on some blind dates with girls who could only just be defined as human. David had begged him to go along with them to make up foursomes when he liked a girl but wasn't sure how to deal with her, although looking back he suspected his brother's real aim had been humiliating him rather than making his date run more smoothly. He'd been furious at the time, but now those girls didn't seem so bad. The memory brought a smile to his face despite his current circumstances.

'What amuses you, Human?'

He fixed the queen with an icy look, annoyed that she thought he would want to share his personal thought with her. 'Nothing you'd appreciate,' he assured her. 'It doesn't involve humans dying in any way.'

His defiance seemed to please her, bringing a vicious grin to her face now, too. 'I wonder how much longer you will be able to smile like that,' she mused, picking up a goblet from the table before her and taking a delicate sip from the contents. 'I look forward to ridding you of your humour.'

'You have a long way to go before that happens,' he assured her.

She held her cup out toward him now, raising it in the air. 'I will drink in your honour - to a worthy adversary and reluctant ally.'

His eyes slipped to the goblet standing in front of him, and he picked it up, raising it as much as his sore and weakened arm would allow. 'How about, to your death when I eventually figure a way out of here?'

He raised the cup to his lips, but she did not join him, preferring to scowl as she slammed hers back down onto the tabletop. The noise made him flinch, but not as much as the blow she dealt him as she leapt across the table and knocked him from his seat.

Sitting her full weight on him, she slammed her feeding hand onto his chest and his body was consumed with the hideously familiar sensation of his life force being dragged from him. He gripped at her wrist, trying to force her hand away, but compared to her he was too feeble to move it even a fraction. Again, before he could fully come to terms with what she was doing, she had stolen then restored his years. She leapt away from him, hissing as she went.

'You will not make me kill you, Human. We still require your samples, and may do for some time to come. But one day, when our work is complete, I will take my fill of you.'

'Looking forward to it,' he quipped, lying spread-eagled on the floor where she'd left him.

'What will it take to break you?' she growled, her glare ferocious in the gloom of that decaying cadaver of a chamber.

'Apparently, more than you're willing to do,' he taunted.

Despite his efforts she didn't bite, and with a final hiss she swept from the room, and several guards entered to retrieve him. As he felt their strong, deathly cold hands grip his upper arms and lift him from the floor, he saw blackness closing in on the periphery of his vision. _If I keep losing time like this, I'll be an old man before I know it,' _he thought. Then, realising the irony of his choice of words, he laughed until he passed out.


	12. Chapter 12

****Just thought I would say another thank you to everyone who has left feedback for this story. Knowing it is being well-received is a great motivation to get it finished.****

Again, Teyla woke from her troubled dreams fighting and straining against an invisible foe. As she surfaced from her trance-like sleep, seven anxious faces swam into view, most of them peering at her from behind P-90s. Ronon also held his weapon trained on her, a frown furrowing his brow as he tentatively called her name.

'I am myself again,' she breathed, and with a resounding sigh, they all lowered their weapons.

'At the risk of sounding morbidly curious, what happened this time?' McKay asked, his face pale and eyes wide with horrified anticipation.

'She fed upon and restored him again in an attempt to weaken his resolve.'

'And?'

'She did not succeed,' she assured him.

A flicker of a smile played across McKay's lips, but his imagination wouldn't allow him to feel comforted for too long. 'But seriously, how many times can a person go through that without being…you know…'

'More times than you imagine,' Ronon grunted, giving him a long, hard look. 'Unless it's you, of course.'

'Yes, very funny, but I mean a real person, not a monosyllabic Neanderthal like you,' McKay spat back at him.

Teyla immediately forced herself between the scientist and the huge Satedan as Ronon launched for him. 'As I said before, fighting amongst ourselves isn't helping Colonel Sheppard. We must focus on the mission ahead of us.'

'If the Wraith queen carries on the way she is, there isn't going to be much of Sheppard left to rescue,' McKay squeaked. He imagined himself in Sheppard's place, fed on twice, mind probed, experimented on - he'd be a quivering wreck if it were him. Of course, the words stoic and brave weren't exactly in his vocabulary. He was more of a cower and hide kind of guy.

'There is more this time,' Teyla announced, her pained expression reflecting her discomfort with what she was about to tell them.

'What is it?' Lorne urged.

'I know what the Wraith are doing. They are extracting Colonel Sheppard's Ancient gene and trying to make it compatible with their own. The Wraith queen wishes to create an army of thousands capable of using Ancient technologies. She believes that if they succeed they will be able to access information and planets thus far protected from them.'

'Oh, crap!' McKay gasped. 'If they do that and find a way through to Atlantis, they might be able to 'gate to Earth.'

'Yes, and many other inhabited planets from there,' Teyla nodded.

'This is very bad…' McKay muttered, picking up his tablet and beginning some calculations.

'If you so much as mention the numbers of people who might die, I'll feed that thing to you,' Ronon warned.

The scientist clutched the tablet to his chest, looking sheepish. 'I…I wasn't going to -'

Ronon raised his eyebrows a fraction, his expression remaining impassive, and Rodney gave up on trying to make excuses; the Satedan knew him far too well.

'Fine. If you want to bury your head in the sand, go ahead. I prefer to know what I'm up against!'

'I must admit, I am rather concerned for the colonel's wellbeing,' Carson said, his gentle blue eyes wide with anguish. 'The long-term physical and psychological effects of being fed upon and restored a number of times have yet to be seen.'

'Forget that stuff,' Ronon grunted. 'None of it helps us get to Sheppard. We can worry about piecing him back together once we get him out of there.'

'Aye, ye have a point there, son,' Carson conceded.

'But what if we can't find him…what do we do then?' McKay asked. 'That place is huge, and there aren't that many of us. I doubt we'll find him before the Wraith find us.'

Lorne looked agitated, but gave McKay the answer he was dreading to hear. 'Well, the final decision will be down to Dr Weir, but if we can't retrieve him, I'm pretty sure the Daedalus will end the Wraith threat pretty effectively.'

'What? So, they're gonna just blow the place up with us inside it?'

'They have no choice, McKay. I'm pretty sure Dr Weir will agree we can't allow any part of these experiments to survive, you know that.'

'Besides, I'm thinking given the choice of spending the rest of his life being sliced and diced or going out instantaneously under fire from the Daedalus, Colonel Sheppard would be pretty grateful to us,' the major advised him.

'Well, that's just a typical thing for a flyboy to say,' Rodney sputtered, feeling choked. 'This may seem completely alien to you, but some of us didn't get into this job with the idea we would have to throw our life away on a whim.' Everyone stared at him in disbelief, and once again, he was left feeling inadequate for placing his own safety above Sheppard's. He shrank into his seat and whimpered, 'I'm sorry, but I wasn't brainwashed into thinking dying in battle was a glorious thing like you people were.' He wanted Sheppard back as much as everyone else, but he was pretty sure Sheppard wouldn't want them to give up their lives for him. Was he the only one who realised that?

'Trust me, Sheppard would thank us,' Ronon growled, adding his weight to Lorne's argument. 'And if it comes down to a choice between being fed upon by the Wraith or taken out by the Daedalus, you'll be grateful, too.'

'Yes, I'll be sure to ask Elizabeth to throw Colonel Caldwell a thank you party if that happens,' McKay ranted, now more terrified than ever.

As Lorne prepared to contact Atlantis with the news of Teyla's discovery, Rodney cancelled the last instruction he'd punched into his tablet. In truth, he didn't want to know how bad things would get of the Wraith succeeded in melding Sheppard's DNA with theirs, and neither did he want to think about what they might have to do to ensure that never came to fruition.

He glanced at his watch; they were still almost twenty hours from the planet. They had to get Sheppard out…he wouldn't even consider any other option. This was absolutely not the way Rodney McKay would bow out of the Pegasus Galaxy.

oooOOOooo

A vague sniffling sound was the first thing to break through the haze surrounding Sheppard's aching brain. That was swiftly followed by a volcanic eruption of pain throughout every inch of his body that made him uncharacteristically cry out with no regard for who might be listening. Beads of sweat ran down his temples from his saturated forehead, making their way down his neck and soaking into what remained of the collar of his T-shirt. He concentrated on that sensation, allowing it to divert his thoughts from the agony.

A moment later, he felt a hand on his chest and, afraid the queen was attacking again, he instinctively struck out in self-defence, releasing another flood of burning throbs and pulses. With the agony still searing through him, he didn't realise what he'd done until he heard sobbing again and he forced himself to focus on the sound. Much as he was suffering, he couldn't suppress the urge to help others in distress. When he forced his bleary eyes to open and lifted his head, he spotted Orial beside him a trickle of blood running from the corner of her mouth. His punch had set her on her backside, where she still sat looking daze and afraid.

'Oh, thank God. I didn't eat you after all,' he gasped, allowing his head to thud back down to the floor.

'What do you mean?' he heard her whisper.

He opened his eyes and rolled his head in her direction. 'Don't worry about it. And I'm sorry for hitting you…I thought you were _her_.' As he looked at her this time, he noticed she clutched a damp rag to her chest. 'She…she fed on you, too?' he breathed.

Orial nodded. 'While you were recovering from the experiments I was taken for questioning.'

Sheppard rode another wave of bone-wracking pain until he could breathe deeply enough to speak again. 'She never mentioned that. What did she want to know?'

'She asked me about Atlantis, and the information held there.'

Knowing he would regret it, he fought his way up into a sitting position so he could talk to her properly. Being vertical always seemed to help conversation flow more easily. 'What did you tell her?'

She hesitated, pain lighting her eyes as she recalled the pressure the queen had brought to bear on her. 'I tried to resist, but she was insistent, forcing her mind into mine. You can't shut her out for long, but I tried everything I could to withhold the information she wanted.'

Falling back against the wall for support, Sheppard waited for the hideous straining sensation in his muscles to subside before pressing her further. 'You didn't answer my question,' he pointed out, worried by what that avoidance might mean.

'She found out about the Atlantis database. Once they have perfected their experiments, she intends to overwhelm the city and use it find out everything she needs to know.'

'Oh, crap!' Sheppard breathed. This was as much his fault as Orial's, not that he could really place any blame on her. Wraith queens could wheedle information out of the most determined minds - the only reason she hadn't broken him down was because he'd thrown her a curveball with the Johnny Cash lyrics. Now, because he'd resisted, the queen had turned her attentions to Orial, a woman who was so used to being tortured and probed and knew so little else about life that she had no mental ammunition with which to bamboozle her.

'I didn't tell her about the shield,' Orial said quietly, wincing and pressing harder on her weeping wound. 'She plans to take her newly created army through the gate to Atlantis, but she doesn't know about your defences.'

That brought a smile to his face. He would have laughed if he hadn't been so worried about how much it would hurt. Less than a day ago, he would have willingly strangled this woman himself. Now, well, he couldn't forgive her for everything she'd put him through, but he was definitely warming to her. 'You got anymore water?' he asked, convincing himself to sit forward and tear enough material from the bottom of his shirt to make a compress.

'A little,' she nodded, gesturing toward the cup in the corner of the cell.

He crawled over to it and damped the fabric to hold it to his chest and put out the fire in his skin. Again, it offered instant if minimal relief, but the effort of reaching the water itself left him completely drained, sweat running from his pores. He rolled onto his back and held his feeble attempt at first aid in place, closing his eyes and concentrating on getting through the pain. He felt utterly disgusting - filthy, clammy, and caked in various patches of blood he just wanted to wash off and forget about. What he wouldn't give to hear McKay whining about what a mess he was and how bad he stank, or Teyla's velvet voice telling him he was going to be fine and he was safe. Hell, he would even settle for Ronon slinging him over his shoulder and getting him the hell out of there, no matter how helpless and pathetic it made him feel.

He forced his arm up in front of his face and checked the time. Sixteen or seventeen hours - that was how long he reckoned it would take for a jumper to reach the planet if Elizabeth had realised something was wrong when he missed the first scheduled contact. He had to hold onto the hope that they were coming. If he didn't believe they were searching for him, this would all be too much. While there was still hope, he could cling onto what shreds of his sanity remained and hang on in there. The inside of his forearm throbbed angrily when he raised it, even more than the rest of his arm, and when he turned it over he saw the wound the Wraith Queen had inflicted when removing his sub-dermal transmitter was now yellow and oozing. The sight of it caused his stomach to turn.

'You are still waiting for your friends?' Orial asked, obviously having seen him look at the time.

'They'll come,' he replied, not allowing even a hint of doubt to taint his response.

'I hope you are right.'

He twisted his head to look at her. She was curled up against her own discomfort, pain his stubbornness had brought upon her. He couldn't help but sympathise, especially now, having experience what she had suffered all her life for just one day. How could he question the thinking of anyone who had been constantly tortured, punished, and humiliated from her earliest conscious memory? After just over twenty-four hours, he was already beginning to question his own integrity and regret his link to the Ancients, although, he'd been a little dubious about the special gene thing since he'd activated the chair in the Antarctic. It was one of those things that he'd suspected would prove to be either a blessing or a curse, and right now, he had a pretty clear idea of which way he was leaning.

'So, do you want to carry on being a botanist when we get back to Atlantis?' he asked, trying to boost her spirits.

She lifted her head, her expression a clear reflection of her amazement. 'What?'

'Well, you have to go somewhere when we get out of here, so I figure Atlantis is as good a place as any.'

She gaped back at him, incredulous. 'You would do that for me?'

He gave her a lop-sided smile, the best he could manage in his current condition. 'I think we could fit you in if I put in a good word with Dr Weir.'

Though the thought had momentarily brightened her mood, her shoulders soon dropped again. 'But what about my people? What will become of them?'

'Well, we could probably save them, too. My friends will figure something out, I'm sure.'

She smiled back at him now, but there was real sadness in her face, as if she doubted his word. He supposed that was natural. The Lanteans had sacrificed her people to the Wraith to secure their own escape; the sort of mistrust an act like that could breed would take a long time to rid herself of completely.

He felt his brain beginning to fire in a more random way - odd thoughts and fragmented memories rising and subsiding - and knew it was pulling him back to sleep. He didn't fight it. Hopefully, when he woke up again the pain would be more manageable, and his friends would be that bit closer to mounting a rescue.


	13. Chapter 13

Hands grabbing and pulling; voices echoing, distant…no…no, close by; rotten flesh and unfamiliar structures rushing past in a blur.

Eyelids heavy as lead strained open, catching glimpses of the dark and unsettling surroundings. He was moving. How was he moving? Was it Ronon? It didn't sound like Ronon. The voices seemed distorted.

Multi-facetted.

Wraith.

Sheppard forced himself to focus, feeling the deathly cold grip of the guards clutching at his feverish skin. Where were they taking him? He wasn't ready. Too soon. He wasn't ready to face her again, not yet. He fought, strained, tugged and pulled, but in reality knew he wouldn't budge their grip. The sound of the guards' boots thudding rhythmically on the floor filled his ears, along with his own breath rattling in and out of his lungs. That couldn't be good, although, considering his current situation, maybe it was. Oh, God. He wasn't ready. He needed more sleep…

_Snap to it, John! _he ordered himself, just as they emerged into the laboratory, his eyes falling on the empty chair they had trapped him in earlier. _On second thoughts…_

The guards dumped him on his feet in front of the queen and a combination of sheer bloody-mindedness and pride combined to keep him upright. He could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead, running down into his eyes as he struggled to maintain his balance. He rubbed them away on his sweatband, but it did little good since it was just as drenched as his head was. In fact, he realised as felt his clothing sticking to various points of his body, he was saturated in feverish perspiration.

The queen strode toward him, forcing her face into his and examining him, hissing in the back of her throat. 'You are sick.'

He chuckled, setting off a rattle in his lungs that made him cough until he wheezed. He had to take a step back to steady himself. Once he got the choking and spluttering under control, he said, 'You're not the first person to tell me that?'

'You are strange, Human. You still find humour in your situation?' she asked.

'Yeah, my sides are splitting…quite literally.'

She narrowed her eyes, unimpressed that he was still able to joke. 'You are weak. If I probe your mind now, will I find what I need?' she asked, stroking her fingers down the plane of his sticky cheek.

'Not sure. You probe away and I'll get the jukebox lined up,' he said, giving her a crooked smile.

She frowned, clearly unsure of his meaning, beginning to circle him as he stood trembling in that poorly lit chamber. His body was aflame, but the coldness of his surroundings chilled the sweat on his skin and left him shivering when he really wanted to look strong. His wounds were becoming infected - he'd been through this enough times in his life to know the signs. It was hardly surprising in a seething cesspit of a place like this. The walls looked like they were crawling with alien germs just waiting to pounce and burrow into him.

The circling left him dizzy and he began to sway, having to concentrate hard on stopping the movement for fear his momentum might cause him to pitch over. He was resolved to stay upright no matter what this bitch threw at him. If he was going to make contact with the floor, it was going to have to jump up to hit him this time.

'We require more samples from you,' the queen informed him, her gaze unwavering as she stopped before him.

Sheppard kept his reaction deliberately flat. 'Really? Already?'

'My scientists have been busy. They have already employed the samples previously collected, but still wish to carry out more tests.'

'They're obviously an industrious bunch.'

'Yes…but I am concerned that if we push you further as you are, we will cause you serious harm. I cannot risk losing the finest example of Lantean DNA in the galaxy.'

'Well, that's what we humans would call a dilemma,' he smirked, swaying a little before he could steady himself. 'What y'gonna do?'

The Wraith queen's eyes ran down the length of him, then up again. He couldn't quite work out how to take the look. These queens had a manner about them that made you feel like they were interested in the worst way, when what they were really trying to work out was your calorific value. Perhaps she was considering cutting her losses and sucking his life out, then tossing her scientists his desiccated remains to pick over.

Unfortunately, it soon became clear that wasn't her intention at all. She began to move around him again, trailing her talon like nails across the back of his shoulders and then over his feeding mark, stopping briefly on it as she did so. He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable…but it didn't come.

'Perhaps I will need to be more lenient with you,' she mused, moving her hand along until it rested on his shoulder. 'We do not have to probe your mind again. Orial has spent enough time on Atlantis with you to absorb a great deal of useful information. I am sure, with the right levels of persuasion, I could convince her to tell me anything I need to know.'

Sheppard shrugged himself free of her grip, setting himself wobbling again. 'Orial was part of the botany team. You want to know about crop yields or medicinal herbs, she's your girl. But if you want to know anything more strategic, then you need me.'

'You are unwilling to cooperate, Human. I think if I probe deeply enough, you might be surprised by what she learned while watching you.'

Sheppard briefly chewed on his lip, then stopped himself, knowing it would betray his uncertainty. He couldn't let the façade slip, not for a second. 'I'd be surprised if you find anything useful, that's for sure.'

'If she possesses no information of any use to our cause, then there is little point in keeping her alive,' the queen purred. 'I do feel a hunger burning…'

Sheppard rolled his eyes, knowing she was playing on his conscience. 'What do you want to know?' he snapped, angry that she'd backed him into a corner. He seriously hoped he could bluff his way through this because otherwise he suspected Orial's life was forfeit.

'Orial has told us about the Lantean database on Atlantis, but I cannot believe we will simply be able to 'gate to the city without problem. What resistance will we meet?'

He raised his chin, giving her the slightest of smirks. 'Well, for a start Dr Weir would give you a sound ticking off - she's not keen on people marching in and taking over her city.'

'Dr Weir? She is your leader, yes?' the queen asked.

'That's right.'

'Then she will be the first I will feed upon when we take your precious city.'

Sheppard met her fierce gaze, but couldn't hide the deep swallow that thought forced him to take.

'She is more than your leader…she is also your friend,' the queen pressed, her eyes sliding across his features as she drank in his every reaction.

'That's right. Surprising as it may seem, I do have some.'

'I will make it my priority to feast on all of them myself,' she hissed.

Clenching his jaw, he refused to rise to the bait.

'Will there be an armed presence on your 'gate? I suspect it will be guarded in some way.'

He thought about his answer. Was she aware of the shield after all? Was she testing his honesty? Surely, the Wraith had knowledge of the shield; the Lanteans had created it and he couldn't believe the Wraith had never attempted to 'gate in during their war and struck the barrier. Orial had thought she'd kept the secret from her, and for a while, common sense dulled by pain and fatigue, he'd allowed himself to believe that, too. Now, he was certain she was testing him. She knew about the gate; keeping it from her only guaranteed Orial more trouble. The queen would only keep her attentions on him if she thought he was giving her what she needed.

'What you mean is 'is the shield operative?' Yes, it is,' he told her. 'You can send as many of your shiny new army through the 'gate as you like, but they'll just get squished like bugs on a windshield.'

She growled, turning abruptly and striding away from him.

'Sorry to be the bearer of bad news,' he called after her, mopping away the sweat pooling on his top lip. 'I guess this whole universal domination thing isn't going to be quite the breeze you thought it would be.'

'Enough,' she roared, flying toward him and physically forcing him to his knees rather than commanding it. 'There must be a way around this shield of yours.'

He winced as her talons dug into him, but he refused to cry out as she wanted him to. 'That's right, there is. And one thing I do know is Orial doesn't have the answer. Only team leaders have the authorisation codes necessary to lower the shield. She was just a botanist.'

That was a lie, but he'd been complimented on his ability to bend the truth without showing any sign of subterfuge many times in his career. If ever a lie had to be told, to cover for a colleague or to excuse his own suspect behaviour, he was the one to pull it off. It wasn't a skill he was particularly proud of, but right now, he was pleased he'd nurtured it.

'You are the ranking military officer on Atlantis, yes? I believe that is how Orial described you.'

Orial hadn't told him her discussion with the queen had gone into that much detail. Now he'd pretty much dropped himself in it. 'Well, I…'

'There is no point in lying to me. I know this to be true,' she assured him.

Behind her, he saw the lead male Wraith grinning like a crocodile - all teeth and no humour. He wondered just what he thought was so funny. 'Yes, I am.'

'Then you can order the shield to lower.'

'Well, theoretically…' he mused. 'But if a member of the expedition is thought to have been compromised, their authorisation codes are locked out of the city's systems. It helps to avoid scenarios such as this. Pretty clever, huh?'

'You lie!' she screeched, forcing her face into his until their noses almost touched.

'You know,' he said, pulling his head back a little. 'If you ever do make it back to Earth, I can recommend a great orthodontist.'

She cracked him hard across his face and he had to put out a hand to steady himself. He was pretty sure she didn't understand his joke enough to feel insulted, so had to assume he was royally pissing her off now. He watched her stalk away to where her lead Wraith assistant waited patiently for her orders. She spoke quietly to him and he dipped his head to acknowledge her instruction before heading into the laboratory unit and loading one of their unfeasibly large syringes. Once it was done, she snatched it from him, approaching Sheppard with it.

She held it in front of him, setting loose a tiny fountain of droplets of whatever the loaded cylinder contained. It suddenly occurred to him that this was like some kind of hammy silent movie, the type where all the props were exaggerated to make the intent clear for the audience without the need for words. Only this wasn't a movie, and this was about to become terrifyingly real.

'This will take away your sickness,' the queen stated, slamming it into his neck with such force he had to steady himself again. The cold liquid raced through his arteries, bringing relief to his burning body. Within seconds, he began to feel stronger; he suspected whatever she'd given him had contained traces of Wraith enzyme to help him heal.

'You humans are so frail. We must take care when collecting this next batch of samples - the procedures involved are more…invasive.'

Though their medicine imbued him with the renewed vigour to fight, her six thugs were more than enough to subdue him as he was once again stripped of his clothes and his dignity and forced into the chair. This time, more alert than on the last occasion, he felt the tendrils of Wraith material slithering and gliding their way across his body, knotting and entwining until they had formed a crushing blanket that held him in place, leaving only his abdomen exposed.

'It may take us time to find a way through Atlantis' shield, but we will find it,' the queen growled as she stood beside him, revelling in his obvious distress. 'Every piece of technology has its weakness, as does every living being. If tested enough, all will eventually fail.'

She nodded to her assistant and he stepped up to the mark, holding something that looked distressingly like a scalpel in his hand.

His restricted breath now coming in shortened pants, Sheppard closed his eyes and hoped the medicinal enzyme she'd given him meant he wouldn't feel what they were about to do. He was wrong - it only ensured he would survive it.

Walking away at last, the queen smiled as the sound of his screams echoed from the walls.

oooOOOooo

Teyla's shrill screams heralded the arrival of another of her visions.

'Not again!' McKay gasped as he fumbled his side arm from its holster. 'He's not going to make it if they keep this up!'

'Don't let me hear you say that again,' Ronon warned, aiming his huge blaster at the diminutive Athosian. 'Sheppard's coming home with us.'

Rodney swallowed hard and nodded, though he was too alarmed to speak again.

Teyla convulsed, screamed, swore, and ranted in a manner not dissimilar to the young girl in the Exorcist film Sheppard had made his team sit through once. All that was missing was the head spinning and pea soup vomit.

Eventually, Ronon could stand it no longer. Even though Carson had told them it could be dangerous to wake her prematurely from one of her trances, he holstered his gun and shook her hard by the shoulders until she surfaced, much to the doctor's disgust.

With Carson's admonishments ringing in his ears, Ronon held Teyla steady until he was sure she was fully aware of her surroundings.

'Pretty bad, huh?' he asked, as her dilated pupils returned to their normal size and she focused on him.

'They have taken more samples from him. This time, they took tissue from his internal organs to test.'

'What, without anaesthesia?' McKay squawked, glancing down at his own lightly dressed arm. Since having his sub-dermal transmitter removed, he'd demanded Tylenol on a regular basis, and when he'd demanded something stronger, Carson had pointed out that Sheppard's need was likely to be greater than his.

Ronon couldn't believe how pathetic the scientist was. He'd seen him in hysterics over a splinter in the past, the kind of thing most people wouldn't even notice in the course of getting on with their day. Comparing him to Sheppard…well…there was no comparison. He couldn't help but wonder why Sheppard thought of McKay as a friend…why any of them did, he reconsidered, realising he thought of the scientist as a friend, too. He was a far cry from his comrades on Sateda. Teyla and Sheppard had qualities that reminded him of some of the friends he had lost when the Wraith invaded - that was why he was drawn to them. But McKay? Perhaps it was the simple fact that despite his lack of physical prowess, McKay had saved all their lives dozens of times over. Something like that deserved respect, no matter how much he wanted to punch him just to stop him talking sometimes. McKay never seemed to use one word where twenty would do.

'He was in great pain, but the Wraith have injected him with medicine containing their enzymes to give him the strength to endure,' Teyla assured Rodney, who looked rather nauseous at the thought.

'I don't care, that's inhumane!' he protested.

Ronon just shook his head, snorting, 'They're Wraith, McKay. They don't do _humane.'_

'No…no…I don't suppose they do,' he said sadly, looking agitated.

Ronon was in no doubt that some of that anxiety was down to the fact they were now only a little over five hours away from their destination. Soon, they would face the Wraith hand to hand, and McKay wasn't exactly skilled when it came to fighting.

'It's gonna be all right, McKay,' he said, clapping his broad hand down on the scientist's shoulder. 'If the Wraith want to get to you, they have to go through me first.'

'Well, comforting as that would be if you were Superman, you'll understand if I'm still a little nervous,' McKay whimpered, picking up his computer tablet and losing himself in his work.

Ronon glanced at Teyla, who offered him an understanding smile. She knew he was trying to help, but it wasn't exactly his forte.

'The colonel is at rest now,' she told them all. 'I saw them put him back in a cell to recover from the procedures. And he is not alone. Dr Travis is there with him…but that is not her real name. I sense she is a native of that planet - that she and her people have long been prisoners of the Wraith. That would explain why I felt a mild Wraith presence around her.'

'You did?' McKay said, suddenly interested. 'Why didn't you say anything?'

'Because it did not feel the same as any other Wraith I had detected. The sensation was so mild in comparison, I thought it was some distant threat, but when I asked Radek to scan, there was nothing in the vicinity of the city. Eventually, when nothing happened, I grew accustomed to the sensation.'

Rodney looked genuinely hurt. 'You asked Radek to run a scan? Why didn't you ask me?'

'You are a busy man, Rodney. I did not wish to bother you with such a routine task. Radek is more than capable of carrying out such a scan.'

The huff that met her response suggested he thought otherwise.

'McKay, Radek is just as at risk if the Wraith attack Atlantis as the rest of us. I hardly think he'd screw up something like that,' Lorne smirked, his team chuckling along with him.

'Not on purpose,' McKay conceded. 'But he sometimes has trouble focussing...too much going on in his head, you know?'

'Unlike you?' Lorne clarified.

'Yes, unlike me,' Rodney agreed, lifting his chin arrogantly.

Ronon couldn't suppress his grin of amusement. McKay was usually the first one to panic in any emergency, his saving grace being that he eventually calmed enough to think their way out of tricky situations. He was seriously the most delusional man he'd ever met, and Ronon had met some characters in his time.

Knowing he needed to get some rest before mounting the rescue, he sat down and tried to get comfortable enough to sleep, something that he was finding almost impossible because of his sheer bulk and the restrictions of crowding eight people into a puddle jumper. He slouched down, stretched out his legs and folded his arms over his chest, drifting away despite his certainty that he wouldn't be able to.


	14. Chapter 14

**** This will be the last part until Monday again as my kids are at home for the weekend. They are on a holiday from school next week, but I should be able to get enough work done in the evenings to get the next part up on Monday…I hope!****

Elizabeth listen intently as Major Lorne informed her that they had landed the jumper on the Wraith planet apparently undetected some two clicks from the Wraith compound.

'That's excellent news, Major. We've just received word from the Daedalus. Apparently, they've made better time than expected and they'll be with you in just a fraction under four hours? What are your plans?'

'We'll gear up and head over to the compound immediately. With any luck, by the time we've made the trip there, retrieved the colonel, and made it back to the jumper, they'll be in orbit and ready to take out the compound. I recommend radio silence until we're clear of the planet's surface. Then, I'll contact you and you can give the Daedalus the go ahead to launch weapons.'

She smiled at the confidence in his words. There was no room for doubts on a mission like this. 'Agreed. Does Teyla know where you'll find Colonel Sheppard once you're inside the complex?'

'I believe he is still in his cell for the moment. After the previous encounters with the queen, they have allowed him time to recover, but I fear of we do not find him quickly, they could move him again,' Teyla replied.

'Then I won't delay you any further. Good luck, and please, no unnecessary risks.'

'Everything by the book,' the major promised. 'Lorne out.'

The communication ended, leaving Elizabeth standing in the control room at the balcony over looking the Stargate, knitting her fingers together and rubbing at her palms with her thumbs. Once again, she found herself questioning her decision, wondering if she would have agreed to this almost certainly suicidal rescue bid if it were anyone but Sheppard in there. Was it the guilt she harboured over his previous torture that swayed her decision now? No, she decided, because if it hadn't been Sheppard captured, he would have been in her office bending her ear about how they never left a man behind, and she would have agreed with him, after some persuasion.

She rubbed her tired, dry eyes and turned to look at Chuck. 'If you hear anything from either the team on the planet or the Daedalus, let me know.'

'Yes, Ma'am.'

He gave her a sympathetic smile, as if he understood the turmoil she was going through, but she didn't acknowledge it. Acknowledging it would be tantamount to admitting how scared she was that she'd just sent eight people to their deaths, and she didn't want to even think about that right now.

All she wanted to do at this point was freshen up, eat, and speed up time so they could all be back safely in Atlantis, and the Wraith threat had been eliminated. Unfortunately, since the last wish was beyond her, she had to make to with satisfying her other needs. And waiting.

*****

He knew he had to keep his eyes and ears open for the enemy, but the only thing Rodney could hear was his own shuddering breath, and the only thing he could keep his eyes on was his feet to ensure he didn't trip over them. He gripped a side arm with whitened knuckles, his jaw clenched so hard he was surprised his teeth hadn't shattered.

This kind of thing was not what he'd signed up to do. Writing diagnostic programmes, streamlining power usage, enhancing the functions of ancient tech, that was what he excelled at, not creeping through wooded areas, breaking into Wraith compounds and shooting things.

Ronon had taken point -- no one had dared to question that decision -- and Lorne was watching their six along with Teyla. He and Carson were in the middle of the group, Carson carrying his backpack of emergency medical supplies, ready to administer first aid to Sheppard if it was required before they could move him. McKay thought about asking if he had a tranquiliser to spare, but figured he might be risking physical harm before he even reached the Wraith compound if Ronon heard his request.

He stumbled, but caught himself before he fell, the others throwing him disparaging glances for creating too much noise. Oh, he was so not cut out for this life. He was going to get them all killed.

Ronon pulled up short, holding his balled fist high. Carson and McKay, not quiet so alert as the others, didn't respond as quickly as they did and collided with the marines in front of them, Carson mouthing his apologies. Somewhere ahead, they could hear movement; Ronan's keen hearing had caught it before anyone else's. Between the broad tree bowls they spotted a masked Wraith standing to attention. They sought cover and scoured the area for any more, and sure enough, approximately one hundred yards away on either side of him, were two further Wraith guards.

'They're guarding a perimeter,' Lorne whispered. 'I bet the whole complex is surrounded by guards.'

'Does that mean they know we're coming?' Carson asked.

'Could be. Or perhaps they're there to keep something in.'

'Sheppard?' Ronon grunted.

'Yeah. Him and the natives of the planet Teyla told us about.'

Teyla nodded. 'I believe many people are held there prisoner here. I sense a great sadness on this planet.'

'Could you stop doing the sensing thing now?' Rodney whimpered. 'We might as well march around waving a red flag.'

'I cannot stop this sensation. I have been able to detect Wraith all my life; I cannot simply switch it off at will.'

'All right,' Lorne interrupted. 'We need to take out enough of these guys to give us a clear run at the complex. Dr McKay, Dr Beckett, stay here and stay hidden. The rest of us will fan out and take down the guards in this area. We'll each select a guard. Once target is in sight, fire on my mark.'

'No,' Ronon growled. 'Your guns are too loud. You fire those things, every Wraith out here will know there are humans on the planet. I'll take them out.'

McKay huddled in behind Carson and watched him go, toying with the idea of trying to pick the doctor's pack for something to sooth his nerves.

Everything fell silent. They could still see the Wraith they'd first spotted, and those just beyond him. Ronon crept to a position behind a tree trunk some twenty yards from their hiding spot from where he could get a clear shot. McKay was shaking with tension, his muscles already cramping from holding that position. Why was the caveman taking so long?

Suddenly, the familiar boom of Ronon's gun shattered the peace. The Wraith ahead of them fell. Lorne, Teyla and the rest of the team raised their P-90s to prepare for trouble, but Ronon had it covered. The two other Wraith nearest their fallen colleague heard the shot and ran toward the source; the Satedan picked them off as they moved within range.

Relieved it was over, Rodney tried to stand, but Lorne pulled him back down and gave him the 'hold' signal, frowning at him as if he thought he was an idiot. McKay desperately wanted to protest at his treatment, but figured this wasn't the time. He was right. A few moments later, two further Wraith lumbered onto the scene, spotting their dead comrades, but being taken out before they could react. After a few further few minutes of tension, Ronon darted back over to them. 'I think that's it. The sound of my weapon doesn't carry as far as yours; don't think anyone else will have heard it.'

'Let's just give it a few more minutes before we test that theory,' Lorne suggested.

They did, and thankfully Ronon's assessment was accurate; no more Wraith appeared. Rodney allowed himself to breathe again, getting up slowly to stretch out his aching calves as everyone rose to their feet.

'C'mon,' Ronon barked, taking point again. 'We must be getting close.'

Slotting back into the middle of the group, Rodney stuck close to Carson as the only other person there who might feel as unprepared as he did. No matter how many missions he went on, the scientist never got used to this military stuff; he supposed people were either born warriors or not, and he definitely fell into the latter category. Most people leaned toward either brains or brawn, although there were some exceptions his favourite being Sam Carter, but Sheppard was an example of someone who could balance both, too. The colonel liked to pretend he was an Average Joe, but showed moments of numerical brilliance that startled even him…and the bastard had looks too, not to mention the hair. Some guys got all the luck. Except the fact he was currently recovering from major surgery without anaesthesia -- that wasn't something to envy.

He collided with the back of the marine in front of him again, only then realising that the group had once more halted. They all crouched, McKay a second behind everyone else as usual.

Through the undergrowth, he could see a building, at least that was how he supposed the Wraith would describe it. It seemed to almost grow out of the ground like some vast chambered bulbous plant, that weird Wraith organic matter that seemed to coat everything they created smothering its outer structure. There were no windows, so obviously no natural light inside, but the think was enormous, filling their view as the rest of the team quickly assessed the situation.

'Looks like a dozen guards on the door,' Lorne said, surveying the scene through his field binoculars. 'I'm betting there's more just inside. Think you can take them out, Ronon? I'd like to at least infiltrate the compound before we have to alert them all to our presence.'

Ronon simply quirked an eyebrow and took himself off to somewhere with a better vantage point.

Several weapon blasts and a reasonable pause later, Lorne signalled that they were good to go.

Once inside, McKay pulled his LSD from inside his vest and tried to make sense of the information it showed him. Teyla stood at his shoulder and regarded all the flashing dots, fathoming out the layout the device was showing them.

'There,' she said, jabbing her index finger toward two dots in close proximity and away from the others. 'I believe that is Colonel Sheppard and the women he is imprisoned with. That is what my visions showed me.'

Lorne checked the screen, got his bearings, and gave her a quick nod of acknowledgement. 'All right. Put that thing away before they trace us and let's move out.'

Pushing back his fear and focusing on how much Sheppard was depending on them, McKay set his jaw and headed into the stronghold with the rest of the team, ready to fight to retrieve his friend.

*****

Sheppard shouted out and jerked awake to find himself in the familiar surroundings of his cell. Although he would have preferred to see his surfboard, his photo of Evel Knievel, and all the other paraphernalia he'd gathered around him in his room at Atlantis, the cell was still a welcome sight compared to the laboratory where he'd lost consciousness.

At first, he thought he felt okay, much better than the last time he'd woken. His head seemed clear, he wasn't sweating, and the shivers were all gone. Then, the aching started in his abdomen, and flashes of memory returned; Wraith hands, covered in his blood, slicing away at various organs until he'd thankfully passed out and left them to their butchery.

He sat up slowly, feeling the tug of bruised and tender skin, and lifted his shirt to assess the damage. What he presumed to be a Wraith dressing adorned his stomach. It was dirty looking and cumbersome -- no doubt because they were unaccustomed to dressing injuries for themselves or their other prisoners. He supposed the dose of Wraith enzyme she'd given him had worn off during the procedures and they were unwilling to give him more unless it was entirely necessary. That made sense. They wanted him to break, so they had to leave him in a certain degree of pain and sickness to hopefully keep him subdued. Well, it would take more than this to slow him down; he felt quite insulted that they thought he could be so easily subjugated.

Orial scooted over to him, looking greatly relieved to see him awake. 'What did they do to you? I asked them when they brought you back to the cell, but they wouldn't tell me anything.'

'They took some more samples…had a good dig around to get them out, too,' he winced, pressing against his dressing as he pulled himself up a little straighter. He'd learned from experience that doing that made movement easier, even if it was partially the psychological comfort of believing you were preventing your insides from unravelling all over the floor. He considered peeling back the dressing and taking a peek at what lay beneath, but decided against it. If he didn't see how bad it was, he could convince himself it was minor and nothing to worry about.

Unpleasant as the residual pain undoubtedly was, he found it far more bearable than either the feeding or the fever they'd treated him for. He'd had surgeons poking around inside him before, admittedly under general anaesthetic and with them administering painkillers after the event, but he could ride this; this was nothing compared to the feedings.

He checked his watch. It was now an hour after the time he'd estimated it would take a rescue team to reach the planet. Had he been wrong? No, no he hadn't. They were coming. They had to be. His timing was just askew.

'You look much better than you did earlier,' Orial smiled. 'The colour has returned to your cheeks. Did they give you Wraith enzyme?'

He nodded. 'They were scared I was going to die on them, so they had no choice.'

'Seems they didn't give you enough to heal all of your injuries,' she said, dipping her head toward his stomach.

'I think that was the idea.'

Desperate to get off his numb backside, he stood and straightened slowly. The throbbing made him catch his breath, but when it subsided, it wasn't so bad. In truth, the pain wasn't the worst part of any of this. It was the utter futility he felt deep inside when he looked into the Wraith queen's emotionless eyes. Nothing he could say to her would make a difference to his situation. The queen couldn't be reasoned with because she didn't see him as in any way her equal. To her, he was a food source, admittedly an advanced and temporarily useful food source, but a glorified meal none-the-less. He was the Pegasus Galaxy's equivalent of a burger and fries. Besides, he had no leverage to bargain with. There was nothing he could offer that she would want more than the total domination of every other species.

Bouncing on his legs to test their strength he decided they definitely felt much steadier than they had for some time. If help didn't show up soon, he might actually be able to fight the Wraith again himself, perhaps whip that assistant of hers into a feeding frenzy. He stopped mid thought, re-evaluating his plan. Getting himself killed now didn't solve the problem of the samples they'd already taken from him. If he died and no one on Atlantis knew what had happened, the Wraith might actually succeed with their plan, and his friends would be none the wiser until they took the base and wiped them out. Letting them kill him wasn't an option anymore.

He looked over at Orial, still crushing a damp cloth to her injured skin. It occurred to him then that the people on Atlantis weren't the only ones he had to help. Orial was just the tip of the iceberg, the one visible victim of this compound. Somewhere in there were five hundred or so more of her people, all of them suffering what he had been put through day after day of their miserable lives. He couldn't let that continue. How could he put this behind him knowing these people were still in Wraith clutches? Orial's people deserved to be freed from their suffering.

Whatever happened, he couldn't just sit around waiting for rescue that might never come. He needed to get out and find his jumper. He needed to get back to Atlantis and return with more troops. No…if he escaped, he suspected the queen would bring her wrath to bear on these people in ways he couldn't even imagine. What he needed to do was find a way to get Orial's people out and destroy the facility and all traces of the genetic experiments along with it.

'Orial, if we get out of this cell, could you find your way back to your people?'

She looked puzzled, then amazed, nodding emphatically.

'All right. Here's what we do…'


	15. Chapter 15

**** Here's the next part, as promised. I hope it was worth the wait. Minor spoilers for Sateda and Rising.****

Ronon didn't like giving up his position at the front of the group, but he'd had to accept that Teyla was the best person to show them the way from this point. He hated feeling like a spare part, so he'd insisted on taking up the rearmost position and guarding the route they had already travelled.

Being inside a Wraith facility brought back unwanted memories of pain and torture, just as it always did, but he used those memories to fuel his anger and determination to get his friend out alive.

Every shadow, every protrusion in the walls, every gaping doorway might hide a potential danger, so he couldn't let his guard down for a moment. But he was good at this type of thing, the best in the Satedan army. That was why he had survived when so many others had perished, the reason why the Wraith had chosen him to be a runner. They'd realised his skills and determination to survive would provide them with good sport, and so it had for a number of years.

It took all his patience to creep around the way they were. If it were up to him, he would just charge in there and shot everything in sight until he found the colonel and shot his way back out again. This skulking around seemed cowardly somehow, but he understood it was the humans' preferred way of doing these things, and would have been Sheppard's MO too, so he followed along and bit back his urge to let out his primal anger.

Checking back, he saw the group taking a turn and followed them, his eyes still scouring the corridor they were now leaving. Somewhere in the distance he could hear Wraith boots marching, but it was too far off to affect them so he disregarded it and set his keen hearing to picking up more immediate threats.

So far, this had all seemed too easy. Something in his gut told him it wasn't going to be this simple for much longer.

oooOOOooo

When Sheppard next heard the heavy booted chorus of Wraith heading his way, he got down and curled up in the corner of the cell as if asleep, just as he and Orial had discussed. He'd kept himself moving over the past half an hour so his wound didn't stiffen up on him and restrict his movements. And now it was the time to act.

The lead Wraith and four guards entered the cell. Sheppard cracked an eye just wide enough to count them, mildly bemused that the queen already thought he warranted a reduction in his security escort, but at the same time pleased that it made the break out more possible. Not that he was deluding himself. He was going to need Lady Luck to smile on him if he was going to take out five Wraith before they overpowered him.

As the lead Wraith moved forward to wake him, Orial stepped in to try to bargain more time for him with the guards, a distraction not intended to work, but merely to divert their attention long enough for Sheppard to disarm their superior colleague.

Kicking Sheppard in the side to rouse him got the Wraith nowhere, and, obviously worried that he wasn't stirring, he bent over the colonel to take a closer look. Sheppard made his move, punching him off balance and grabbing his gun when his grip on it loosened as he tried to break his fall. Sheppard took him out, then another of the guards before they realised what he'd done and began to return fire. Orial bravely tackled one, grabbing his stun weapon and swinging her full weight off it so that he couldn't take aim at Sheppard. The colonel avoided a couple of shots from the other two, rolling across the floor and picking off another guard, just as Orial was thrown clear and collided with the wall. As the guard she'd tackled prepared to fire at her, Sheppard took him down, but when he tried to avoid another shot fired his way, he wasn't quite quick enough. It caught him on the right arm, making him to drop his weapon. Not that it mattered. Orial had rallied, and shot the remaining drone with a stunner from one of his dead colleagues. The fight over, Sheppard rolled onto his back, clutching his stomach with his one remaining useful arm. That was probably more of a test run than his newly treated wounds were ready for, but there didn't appear to be any blood, so he had to hope things were holding together under the sticky covering.

Giving himself a second or two to regain his breath, he rolled onto his front, got onto his good hand and knees and pushed up, feeling twinges shooting through the muscles under his dressing. The pain welled, but then subsided to a manageable level. It was going to hurt like a bitch tomorrow, well, if there was a tomorrow for him.

The shot to his arm had been a glancing one, and it didn't worry him too much as he was almost as accurate a shot with his left hand as his right. In fact, he felt certain at least some of the feeling was already returning to his fingertips - with any luck, by the next time he needed to use it, it would have recovered. Whether it did or not, all he had to do was keep upright and not get shot again for a few more hours at most, and then this would all be over…in one way or another.

Orial was leaning against the wall, trembling in the wake of their exertions. He clapped his hand on her shoulder, a move meant to reassure and thank her, but it just seemed to leave her more jumpy. Clearly dazed, she tentatively touched the cut on her forehead opened up by her sudden contact with the wall. As she did so, her legs seemed to give up on her and she wobbled as if she were about to collapse.

'You okay?' he asked, steadying her.

She nodded, wincing as if that simple movement caused her pain. 'I believe so.'

'Good. You did well. Now, let's go find your people.'

Sheppard caught hold of her wrist and pulled her along behind him, keen to put distance between them and the cell before the queen found out what they'd done. He didn't even want to imagine what punishment she'd mete out if she caught them after this.

oooOOOooo

Major Lorne and Teyla continued to lead the way as the Athosian guided them through the maze of passageways inside the Wraith compound. Lorne had no doubt memorised the layout from the LSD display, but Teyla had walked these corridors before, numerous times, and so could recognise the minute variances in appearance that others might miss. It was easy to become lost and disorientated in a place this large when every corridor looked the same, but her visions had helped her note key things to look for en-route to the cells. Despite their familiarity, each passage seemed to stretch out endlessly, as they did in her nightmares when she dreamt of being captured and trying to escape. But she didn't let it faze her, proceeding one cautious step after the other as she listened for signs of approaching Wraith.

Teyla gestured to the major that they needed to take a left. He nodded his agreement, and signalled the same to the rest of the team. Looking out for Wraith would have been so much easier with the use of the LSD, but they didn't dare activate it too often, since this Wraith queen had detected alien technology in the compound once before. They had to rely on their senses for this one - anything else might expose their position.

Teyla's whole body tingled in this close proximity to so many Wraith. It was hard for her to detect where they were because the feeling surrounded and smothered her so entirely. It was almost stifling, but she kept her composure and called on the memories of her disturbing visions to guide them safely to their destination. Ahead, they heard the telltale chorus of thumping that told them a troop of Wraith drones was on its way. They split up, secreting themselves into various alcoves and behind seemingly malformed protuberances. They held their collective breath, guns aimed, ready to fight, but waiting and hoping to remain undiscovered.

They were fortunate. The group turned off into corridor that branched of theirs some distance ahead.

'Oh my God. I swear I'm gonna have a heart attack,' Teyla heard Rodney rasp from somewhere behind her.

'Never fear Rodney,' Carson whispered, clapping a hand on his shoulder. 'I'm a dab hand at CPR.'

They headed on further into the bowels of the building, quite literally it seemed from the fleshy wall coverage growing between pillars and struts all around them. It felt like they had been swallowed by some vast leviathan and were wandering around its intestines trying to find a route through.

Eventually, Teyla looked across to Lorne. 'I sense we are close now. We must be careful as there may be guards present outside the cell.'

He acknowledged her suggestion, giving the signal for the rest of the team to proceed with caution.

They edged forward, turning right at Teyla's signal and creeping their way into the cells.

As they approached them, Teyla saw something that made her momentarily lower her gun in disbelief. There, on the floor of the cell she'd seen in her visions, were five dead Wraith.

'I don't believe it! He's escaped!' Rodney gasped, apparently not knowing whether to laugh or cry. 'Now what do we do?'

Lorne frowned, looking over the collapsed forms littering the cell. 'He can't have been out of here long. These guys would have been found by now.'

'How do you know?' the scientist asked.

'Because someone sent them to get him and they haven't realised they're missing yet.'

'Which means they may soon,' Teyla pointed out. 'We must leave this place and look for the colonel elsewhere.'

'Can you sense where he went?' Carson asked.

'I can try, but I think it would be wise to find somewhere less conspicuous to hide while I attempt to do it.'

'Okay, people. Let's move it out and find a safe place for Teyla to do this.'

'If there is such a thing,' she heard McKay mutter as he passed her on his way out of the doorway.

Sheppard and Orial were playing their own game of dodge the Wraith as they picked their way to the transporter Orial had told him would take them to the lower levels where the Wraith Queen held what remained of the native population.

'So, how many people can this transporter hold?' Sheppard asked, beginning to seriously doubt the likelihood of rescuing them all.

'They are slightly larger than the transporters on Atlantis, so maybe ten or twelve,' she explained.

'And there are over five hundred people down there?' he asked.

She nodded, and he saw the same doubt creep into her expression.

'Orial…you know -'

Something through an opening across the passageway caught his eye and stopped him mid-sentence. He strode across to the doorway and peered inside, stunner at the ready. There was no one in there, but the chamber was filled with warm orange light, and at the centre of it stood a great cylindrical chamber of swirling matter.

'Is that…?'

'The power generator,' Orial said, finishing his question with the fact she knew. 'That keeps everything in this compound working.'

'That's what I thought,' he nodded, approaching it. He circled the machine, studying the control panels surrounding it, trying to work out what they all did.

'What are you thinking?' Orial asked, following him in his circuit.

'I'm thinking this might be the key to taking down this facility - once we've got your people out.

She looked at the generator, frowning. 'I do not understand. Are you thinking of cutting the power?'

'Not exactly…these things usually have some programme in place that controls the build up of power so it's maintained at a safe level. If we could find a way of overriding that safety protocol, the power would continue to build unimpeded and eventually…well, you get the idea.'

Her jaw dropped as she continued to look at the energy burning inside the cylinder, then her eyes slid toward him. 'The force will destroy the building?'

'Well, I can't be certain, but that's what I'm hoping. I figure anything powerful enough to run this place should at least take the roof off.'

'Will it destroy the lower levels, too?'

Sheppard felt a pang of guilt since his companion obviously knew just as well as he did that no matter how honourable their intentions, the chances of getting more than a fraction of her people out was highly unlikely. 'I'm not sure. We don't know much about Wraith power sources and there are all kinds of factors that could affect the size of the explosion -'

Surprisingly, Orial's main concern was something quite different. 'The queen keeps her young in the lower levels. If they have been implanted with your Lantean gene and the experiment proves successful, you will need to ensure they are destroyed, too, won't you?'

_Oh, this just keeps getting better and better, _Sheppard thought with a sigh. 'Okay. I guess we'll just have to hope the explosion _is_ big enough.' He moved on, scouring the controls again, looking for anything that might suggest it controlled the critical systems. Nothing jumped out at him. 'Damn it! Where's McKay when you need him?'

'Right here, actually.'

Hardly daring to believe he'd heard that voice, he spun round to find his team, accompanied by Major Lorne's, standing in the room behind him.

'You came!' he gasped, almost overcome with relief. But he soon bit it back. 'What took you so long?'

'Well, we would have been with you a little earlier of you'd stayed put!' McKay complained.

Orial stepped out from behind the generator, and Ronon immediately levelled his gun at her.

Sheppard darted toward him and grabbed his wrist. 'Put the gun down, Ronon,' he ordered.

'She abducted you and handed you over to the Wraith,' Ronon growled, resisting the pressure the colonel was applying to his arm.

Sheppard suspected he could swing his full body weight of the giant's forearm and he wouldn't waver, which meant he needed to talk him down. 'Yes, I know, Ronon, and I was pissed off about that, too. But then, when I saw what Orial and her people go through every day of their lives, I kind of understood why she had to do it. I suggest you try to see it from her viewpoint, too.'

'There's no excuse for offering anyone up to the Wraith.'

'No…no, there isn't. So you'll understand how angry Orial and her people were that the Ancients did exactly that to her ancestors during the war with the Wraith.'

Ronon flicked his eyes toward Sheppard, then back to his mark. 'They did that?'

'Yes. Now, I've forgiven her - I suggest you do the same.'

Still curling his lip in an almost bestial show of anger, Ronon did as Sheppard told him.

'Well, now that little drama's over, we can get out of here?' Rodney said with more than a hint of relief in his voice

'Not so fast,' Sheppard replied, sending that relief plummeting through the floor. 'I promised Orial I would help get her people to the surface. Then, we need to destroy this building, so I want you to stay here and figure out some way to overload this generator and make it blow - Major, maybe you could add some C4 to help it along. With any luck, the explosion will trigger the detonators.'

'No need, Sir,' Lorne advised him with a smug smile. 'The Daedalus is on its way with instructions to take out the facility on Dr Weir's mark.'

Sheppard's eyes widened. 'Cool.' He couldn't help but wonder how they knew the compound needed to be destroyed, but he figured none of them had time to hand out lengthy explanations.

'So, where are these people, Colonel?' Lorne asked, ready to help as always.

'Are you kidding?' McKay sputtered. 'We'll be lucky to get out of here as it is without stopping off to rescue every Tom, Dick and Harry the Wraith have locked up in here!'

'We cannot leave innocent people here,' Teyla insisted.

'Well, I wish we had the luxury of being able to follow through on that sentiment, but if we don't get out of here now, we're going to go up with the building, remember?' Rodney responded, his voice now an octave higher than before.

'Can it, McKay,' Sheppard ordered, flashing a look Orial's way and seeing her mounting despair. 'We're getting those people out of here - period.'

'Fine,' McKay grunted, pulling the LSD from his vest. 'Where should we - oh, crap!'

Sheppard felt an icy chill run the full length of his spine. When Rodney uttered those words, they were always the precursor to something potentially disastrous. 'What is it?'

'There are - I can't even begin to estimate how many - Wraith headed our way!' McKay squeaked, a look of complete terror in his eyes.

'Sir, what do you want us to do?' Lorne asked.

Sheppard looked around at them all, taking in the faces of his friends and loyal colleagues who had put their lives on the line to rescue him, then turned back to Orial. There were tears standing in her eyes, but at the same time, she wore a serene smile, the worry lines that had earlier gouged a path across her forehead now gone. 'We cannot save them, Colonel. I realise that now.'

He knew she was right, but he still didn't like to admit it. At some subconscious level he'd wanted to save them to make up for what the Lanteans had done to the planet's population ten thousand years ago, but the odds were stacked too highly against them for him to see that desire through.

'Okay, looks like we're getting out of here,' he conceded. Heading back over to Orial, Sheppard caught hold of her hand to take her along with him, but she pulled away. 'What're you doing?' he gasped.

'You must go with your friends, Colonel. My place is here.'

He shook his head. 'No way. I'm not leaving you here!'

'This is where I belong…this is my planet, and many of the people imprisoned below this complex are my kin. I have to stay with them.'

Sheppard hesitated, considering whether he should drag her along anyway, but he knew that would be wrong. It seemed she'd made her decision, and much as he longed to persuade her otherwise to ease his conscience, he knew he didn't have the right or the time to do it.

'Maybe there is something I can do here to draw the guards in this direction,' she offered, looking now to McKay for suggestions.

'Er…yes…maybe.' McKay scooted forward, examining the controls. This wasn't the first Wraith device he'd had dealings with, and he knew what controls would be safe for her to meddle with. 'Here,' he said, circling an area of one of the panels. 'These govern how much power is diverted to various systems around the complex. You can tamper with them safely without overloading the system, but you will get the Wraith wondering what's going on and they'll probably head here to investigate.'

'You don't have to do this, Orial,' Sheppard said, pushing McKay aside.

'Yes, I do,' she assured him. 'I brought you out here and allowed them to have access to your DNA. It's only right that I do something to make amends for that mistake.'

'But -'

She put a hand on his chest to stop him. 'Please, John, don't let the Wraith convince you that you carry the sin of the Lanteans, as they did me. Let the lie die with them. You are meant to live; you need to stop the Wraith from ever doing this to another civilisation again. I am content enough in knowing we will be free of them at last.'

A moment later, Sheppard felt a hand grip his arm and tug him away; it was Ronon, and there was no arguing with the Satedan once he'd set his mind on something.

As Sheppard lost sight of Orial, he realised for the first time she had brown eyes. Why had he never noticed that before?

With his cellmate behind him, Sheppard focused on the task of helping to get the team out of there. 'Can you remember how you got in here, Major?' he asked Lorne.

'Yes, Sir.'

'Good. You take point and I'll watch our six. Let's move out.'

As they edged on toward their exit, Sheppard noticed fluctuations in the lighting, a sign that Orial was doing as she'd promised to draw attention to the generator room. With any luck, the queen would figure it was him in there trying to sabotage things and head that way, leaving their path to freedom clear. He wouldn't allow his mind to take him to thought of what that would mean for Orial; he didn't have time for that.

An alarm sounded out, shrill and nerve grinding in its intensity. He figured that either someone had discovered the five dead Wraith in his cell, or Orial had tampered with the wrong buttons. Since Rodney wasn't whining a complaint, his gut told him it was probably the first option. They needed to pick up the pace, and he called to Lorne to tell him as much.

With stealth no longer their priority, they began to run the rest of the route. The passageways seemed to go on forever, always keeping them from the sanctuary of the world outside those festering walls. Suddenly, they turned a corner and it was there - daylight - something he hadn't seen for four days now. He could taste the air freshening as they headed toward it.

He kept his stun weapon high, ready for an attack. Surely someone was guarding the exit? With the alarm sounding, they wouldn't be so reckless as to leave it unattended, would they?

Surprisingly, they met no resistance in those final metres. Lorne exited, followed swiftly by McKay and Carson. Then out went Teyla, and two of Lorne's team close on their heels. Just as he was daring to believe they would all make it, Sheppard spotted something - a Wraith guard slumped in a darkened corner, drained of its life force and nothing more than a dried out husk.

The moment he took his eyes off the door she struck, flying into the remaining trio with such rage that she managed to knock all three of them off their feet. They slammed into the wall, knocked dizzy with the force of the contact. Before any of them could regain their senses, she commanded the door to shut, locking them inside.

Lieutenant Reynolds, the only member of Lorne's team trapped within the compound, was the first to feel her wrath. As his vision cleared, Sheppard saw her draw her hand back, ready to strike the prostrate marine. He fired his weapon straight into her back, but it made little impression. Having recently fed on at least one of her powerful guards, her body instantaneously regenerated, and she fed on him regardless. Sheppard kept firing, but she kept feeding, seemingly oblivious to his attempts to stop her.

Before the colonel could get to his feet, Ronon threw himself into the Wraith, knocking her free of their fallen colleague, but not before the damage had been done. He was still alive, but barely.

Sheppard looked at him, seeing the same resignation he'd witnessed in Colonel Sumner's eyes as he'd given the subtle nod that told him to end his life so soon after their expedition had begun. Sheppard shot Reynolds without missing a beat, then fired on the Wraith queen again. She pushed Ronon aside as if swatting a troublesome mosquito. Again, the stunner didn't faze her for a second, and she turned to face him, hissing her anger.

Sheppard's hand dropped. He was screwed. They both were.

Voices on the other side of the door called to them, raised and panicked. He had to let them know they were still alive. 'Get those damn doors open, McKay!' he yelled, just as the queen began to stalk toward him.

'I'm trying!' came the muffled but panic-stricken response

Sheppard shot the queen again, several more times, but she just ran at him, smashing him into the wall and pinning him by his neck, then crushing his wrist until he was forced to relinquish his weapon. That was it - his last hope of defending both himself and Ronon clattered uselessly to the ground. 'Your friends outside might make it out of here, but you are staying,' she rasped, her voice scraping against the inside of his head as she rammed his skull against the wall again…and again. His vision blurred; he was losing consciousness - his body felt as limp as two-day-old lettuce leaves.

The sound of Ronon unsheathing his sword reached his ears, but it didn't really register as that until the point of his blade appeared through the queen's dress and stopped only inches from his own body. That had to kill her, didn't it?

Apparently not. She dropped Sheppard to the ground and swung a backhand that flung Ronon against the wall on the opposite side of the passageway, no mean feat considering his bulk. Then, she calmly reached behind herself and fed the sword back out, dropping it to the floor as she turned her attentions to the dazed Satedan.

Though injured, Ronon fought hard; Sheppard could see his desperate efforts to keep the queen's hand away from his chest, and heard him shout for the door to be opened. Though, winded, battered and befuddled, Sheppard's instincts to protect his friend overrode concern for his own problems. He rolled onto his hands and knees and crawled for the stunner, figuring if he hit her with enough shots, she would eventually stop regenerating. But would it be fast enough or would she kill Ronon and grow even stronger? He realised the gun wasn't enough. That was when his eyes fell on the discarded sword.

Finding some as yet undiscovered reserved of strength to tap, he reached out and snatched it up by the hilt, staggering to his feet and hefting it to shoulder height, then swinging it with every ounce of strength he had left in him. The queen had drawn her hand back, ready to take her fill. That hand now lay severed on the floor at his feet, and slowly - very slowly - her head tipped forward, revealing the severed spinal chord and tissues that lay within.

Stepping back as the headless body began to list to the side, Sheppard felt the red mist descend and let loose all the pent up rage he had kept suppressed for the past four days on that inanimate body. He hacked and stabbed at what remained, bisecting then dissecting, until what lay before him was unrecognizable as a whole form. 'Now let's see you heal that!' he yelled, standing back and waiting with the sword held out in front of him as if he half expected she might try.

Then, seeing what he'd done and knowing she could not rise again, his strength finally abandoned him. His legs buckled and he sank to his knees, using the sword as a prop to stop himself falling on his face.

Ronon crawled over to help him. The two of them, covered in Wraith blood, looked at each other, exchanging silent thanks for what the other had done.

Without the power of the queen's mind keeping it locked the door behind him opened, and Sheppard heard McKay's strangled cry as he surveyed the scene of carnage. Then, the sound of boots carried to the colonel, or was it just the sound of his brain throbbing inside his skull from the battering it had taken? He wasn't sure - all he did know was he suddenly felt slightly detached from himself, as if he was floating away.

Then the lights went out, and Sheppard pitched forward into his friend's waiting arms.


	16. Chapter 16

****Well, this is it. It's been a fun experience, and I hope everyone who followed the story enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!****

_Choking! _Something blocked Sheppard's throat, causing him to gag in reflex to the sensation. _What are they doing to me now!_

In the gloom, he reached up to his mouth and found some kind of tube in his throat. The thought of what kind of Wraith biotech it might be made him gag and panic even more, grabbing it and trying to pull it free.

The darkened room was suddenly flooded with light and when his eyes were able to focus against the glare, it was Carson's face he saw looking down on him. The kind-eyed doctor grasped his hands, preventing him from pulling at the tube still attached to a ventilator beside his bed, speaking softly, soothing him until the panic left him, and he relaxed.

'Let me do that,' he offered, releasing the dressings that held it in place and slowly pulling the tube free. It was an unsettling sensation as the tube was withdrawn, bringing tears to his eyes and aggravating his gag reflex, but once it was out he felt vastly better. His body was his own again -- apart from the IV in his hand and the various pads monitoring his heart.

Beyond the doctor, Sheppard could now make out two of the nursing staff, ready to assist. His surroundings began to fully register; he was in the Atlantis infirmary. He was safe.

'Can I get you anything, Colonel?' Carson asked.

'Water,' was all he could manage to croak, his throat sore and dry as sandpaper. Manners would have to wait until he he'd drunk it.

The doctor poured a glass of water for him and tipped it to his lips. Though normally Sheppard would have refused help and done it himself, he was glad Carson had done it for him. He felt too weak to consider lifting it himself.

As he thanked him and let his head fall back against the pillows, Carson did a quick examination of his pupil responses. Sheppard really wasn't in the mood to be pulled around, but he knew the doctor was only doing his job. Once he was satisfied, he asked the nurses to wait outside, pulling the some screens around the colonel's bed to afford them some privacy.

'How're ye feeling, son?' he asked, pulling up a seat beside the bed.

'I'm fine,' Sheppard lied, wincing as the words hurt his throat and head. Perhaps that was his punishment for being dishonest. He couldn't help but notice the dark circles beneath Carson's eyes. 'What time is it?'

The doctor checked his watch. 'Almost half past one in the morning.'

'So what are you doing up?'

Carson smiled, apparently amused by the colonel's concern for him. 'Well, you've been showing signs of regaining consciousness for the past few hours. I wanted to be here when you did since I thought you'd have one or two questions you'd like answered.'

Sheppard nodded. 'Just a few. What happened out there?'

'Well, after you obliterated the Wraith queen, you passed out. Ronon threw you over his shoulder and carried you out of there, and we hotfooted it back to the jumper. We did run into a wee bit of trouble on the way, but Major Lorne's team and Teyla made short work of them. Ronon even managed to take a Wraith out while still carrying you.'

'Doesn't surprise me,' Sheppard forced out, embarrassed by the thought he had been so useless throughout their attempts to reach the jumper. 'So, how long have I been out?'

Carson checked his watch. 'Oh, about fourteen and a half hours, give or take a wee bit.'

'That's not so bad…I thought it might have been days.'

'No, we docked with the Daedalus and they got us back here in a fraction of the time. Although, it might have been better if you had been out for longer. You're a far easier patient to treat when you're unconscious!'

'Thanks for that,' the colonel smirked. Then his smile fell away. 'What about Orial…and her people?'

Carson dropped his gaze to the bedclothes with a sigh. 'We persuaded Colonel Caldwell to scan for life signs to see if we could discern where the prisoners were being held, but we couldn't find signs anywhere near numbering the amount of people we suspected were in there. Rodney believes the prison was shielded, so there was no way to get a lock on them. The Daedalus destroyed the complex and everything in a one hundred mile radius, at least that's what the colonel told us. Said something about a Mark 8, no…no…I think he said a Mark 9 warhead. He's strangely proud of the fact, actually.'

Sheppard closed his eyes against the thought of their fate, but at least it would have been instantaneous. 'Well, that was his objective.'

'Aye, but a sign of some remorse wouldn't have gone amiss.'

Sheppard's chest tightened as he struggled with the sadness losing Orial awoke in him. 'I never even asked what her planet was called.'

'Well, I'm sure you had other things on your mind at the time,' Carson pointed out. 'If it helps, I could ask Rodney to check the database and see if he can find it.'

The colonel nodded, suppressing a sigh that welled up and tried to force its way out.

Oh,' Carson suddenly gasped. 'I almost forgot.' He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of dog tags, handing them to him. The name on them read, 'Lieutenant Daniel Paul Reynolds'.

'Why are you giving me these?' he asked, his eyes glued to them.

'Apparently, Lieutenant Reynolds had no next of kin on file -- Major Lorne tells me he was estranged from them rather than had none -- but he'd requested that in the event of his death, his dog tags be given to whoever was his commanding officer at the time.'

'But that was Lorne,' Sheppard pointed out.

'He says not. And as I remember it, he'd handed command over to you by the point you had to help Lieutenant Reynolds. The major thought you should have them as a sign that everyone supports what you did for him.'

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Sheppard held back a wave of emotion, closing his fingers around the tags without another word of argument. When he did speak again, it was to ask for food.

'So, you're hungry?' Carson asked, giving him a warm smile as they changed the subject to something easier.

'Starving,' Sheppard confessed, amazed by just how empty his stomach felt.

'Well, that's a good sign, but I'm afraid I can't allow you to try any food until the morning. I'll get the nurses to monitor your fluid intake for tonight, and if you manage to keep everything down, we'll try something light for breakfast.'

'How about something heavy?' he asked hopefully, thinking that if he had to wait that long he would definitely need something more substantial.

'Sorry, Colonel. I have to insist. We scanned you while you were unconscious and found several lesions on your internal organs, including your stomach and oesophagus. Better to give them a couple of days to heal before we try anything solid. Trust me, it'll be better for you in the long run.'

'And I thought the torture was over,' Sheppard muttered with a wry smile.

'Actually, it might not have all been intended as torture,' the doctor said, pulling out his data pad and updating the Colonel's records. 'There may have been a need to try different tissue samples when trying to extract your Ancient gene. You'd be surprised how difficult genetic manipulation can be.'

'Yeah…'cause it sounds so simple,' Sheppard laughed, regretting it as it made him cough. 'Maybe I should have cut her some slack.' Then, a thought struck him. 'How d'you know about the experiments, anyway?'

'All in good time, Colonel. Don't worry yourself about that right now. All I can say is it's a good thing the Daedalus was on hand. You'd suffered a small linear fracture to your skull and an intracranial bleed, but thankfully it wasn't too severe and I was able to treat it with elevation and diuretics. We intubated you to help reduce the mild swelling in the brain tissue, hence the tube in your throat when you woke up -- to be honest, I was concerned the damage was more severe when you lost consciousness, but I think fatigue played a bigger part in that than the brain injury itself. You don't know how lucky you are, son.'

'Lucky…yeah, that's exactly how I feel,' he smirked, rubbing his forehead.

'Headache?'

'It's not so bad.'

'Well, if it's all the same with you, I'll get you some Tylenol anyway.'

'Whatever makes you feel better, Doc.'

Carson smiled. 'That's very thoughtful of you, Colonel. Now if you'll agree to stay in bed for a few more days, I'll feel even happier.'

'A few days!' he protested, but it was clear the doctor wasn't about to let him talk his way out of it.

'I insist, Colonel. Your body has experienced several traumas over the past few days, not least the feedings, and a couple of days of bed rest is the very least I expect of you.' He stood, yawning. 'Anyway, if it's all the same with you, I'm gong to get some rest, too…once I've let a few people know you're awake and well.'

'I'm sure I'll be fine in the hands of your capable nursing staff,' Sheppard assured him, smiling at the pretty young nurse who appeared around the screen when Carson beckoned for her to join them.

After instruction her about the liquids and pain relief, Carson disappeared to catch up on some much needed sleep.

_*****_

The following day, Sheppard was allowed to see Elizabeth and his team mates one at a time. It seemed Carson was deadly serious about him resting; he wouldn't even let them see him all together.

Elizabeth was first, bearing a bowl of chicken soup. It was gratefully received and swiftly devoured, but it hardly registered on the hunger meter ticking over in his stomach. They chatted about how he was feeling, how long Carson had recommended it should be before he could return to active duty, the weather, anything other than what he'd just lived through. He knew deep down it was because what the queen had done had opened up the barely healed over psychological scars she bore from his Genii torture, but neither of them discussed the matter directly.

Sheppard made jokes to lift her spirits and assured her he was well, but ached for her to open up with him so he could tell her none of it had been her fault. Unfortunately, deep and meaningfuls weren't his strong point, so the words remained unspoken and the pain remained unaddressed.

Teyla was next to visit a couple of hours later. She brought with her some homemade tuttle root soup, which she still hadn't quite mastered. He ate it bravely without a grimace, even thanked her while secretly hoping she didn't bring him more. The way she looked at him told him she knew a lot more about what he'd been through than she was letting on. She gazed at him with something close to pity, and he had to bite back the desire to tell her he didn't need her sympathy. They spoke about things going on around the station that morning, such as Rodney having yet another sparring session with Ronon, and Radek being in trouble with Rodney as usual, and her soft tones soon soothed away his annoyance.

Next through the infirmary doors was Rodney himself, looking mildly pained as he produced a bowl of chicken soup and proceeded to complain about the injuries he'd sustained in training. Sheppard listened patiently, a slight smile of amusement playing across his lips. To be honest, he really didn't mind: Rodney was just being himself, and he wasn't trying to avoid saying anything that might upset or offend him as the others had. He ate his soup while Rodney went into great detail about the mountainous snacks he and Ronon had demolished once their exertions were over, never once thinking to point out how grateful the scientist should be to be able to eat at all. Listening to McKay whimper and whine was the first opportunity he'd had to forget about his experiences for a while. All too soon, McKay announced he needed to get back to work to sort out some problem Zalenka had caused in his absence, and Sheppard was left alone again to contemplate his situation.

Eventually, Ronon showed up…with yet another bowl of chicken soup. Sheppard accepted it graciously and forced it down, but suspected if he had to eat one more bowl of it today, he might just bring the lot back. Unlike the others, Ronon didn't avoid talking about what they'd been through, and instead relished discussing just how many times Sheppard had shot the Wraith queen without any effect, and how long it had taken him to clean and sharpen the blade of his sword after Sheppard had hacked her to death with it. The memory of it almost helped that soup resurface, but Carson had told him being sick in his condition would be bad, so he fought it back down again.

Much as he normally enjoyed Ronon's company, Sheppard felt tired, and the Satedan's natural exuberance when discussing a good fight was exhausting. He didn't have the heart to ask him to leave, so was relieved when he announced he had a training session lined up with some of the marines in less than ten minutes. Sheppard thanked him for visiting and let him go without complaint, allowing his head to fall back against the pillows and soon drifting off to sleep.

*****

When he woke again later, he found McKay setting a tray down on his side table and trying to escape without waking him.

'Two visits in one day. I'm highly honored,' he quipped, causing the scientist to snap round in his direction.

'Oh, I thought you were asleep,' Rodney said, looking like he'd done something wrong.

'I was, but now I'm not.' Sheppard looked at the tray with the covered dish he'd deposited beside the bed. 'That's not chicken soup is it?'

'Er…no, it's yoghurt, actually.'

'Really! Great!' He tried to lean and reach the try himself, but the pains in his abdomen warned him that was a stretch too far.

'Here. Let me,' McKay offered, passing it to him.

Yoghurt had never tasted so good, and the dish was empty in a matter of seconds.

'So…how're you feeling?' McKay asked somewhat hesitantly.

Sheppard shoved his tray toward Rodney and waited for him to set it aside for him. 'You really want to know?'

'Well…yes…of course. I wouldn't have asked otherwise,' the scientist replied defensively, his eyes darting around as if he would rather look at anything but the man in the bed in front of him.

Things seemed suddenly more awkward than they had earlier. Sheppard wasn't in the mood for treading on eggshells, so tackled it head-on. 'Why are you here, Rodney?'

'What do you mean? I've come to…bring you yoghurt.'

'Well, that's very thoughtful, but you're clearly not only here bearing dairy products,' Sheppard urged.

'Well…all right…if you want to know, I drew the short straw.'

Feeling stung by the suggestion his friends had not wanted to visit him again, Sheppard tried not to let the hurt show in his expression. 'Well don't let me keep you, Rodney. You know where the door is.'

'That's not how I meant it to sound,' Rodney tried to explain. His shoulders dropped and he sighed. 'I knew I shouldn't have joined in the draw. Any one of the others would have been better at this than me!'

'Better at what?' Sheppard demanded, his patience wearing thin.

'We were all chatting over dinner this evening and we realised that not one of us had actually talked to you about…well, about what the queen did to you.'

Sheppard pushed himself up a little straighter and Rodney tried to help plump his pillows, receiving a foul look for his troubles.

'It's just that…well…we thought you should know that we all know exactly what you've been through…pretty much. Teyla had this weird connection thing going and she saw your tissue samples being collected…and the feedings.'

His jaw dropping a little, Sheppard gaped at him, unsure what to say.

'I suppose what we wanted you to know is…well…that if you ever need to talk…'

Sheppard nodded, averting his eyes to his feet stretched out at the end of the bed. After a protracted silence, with Sheppard unmoving and Rodney fiddling with the edge of the tray, the colonel released him from the burden of staying any longer. 'Well, thanks for the chat, Rodney, but I'm sure you have more important things you should be getting on with.'

Rodney frowned, clearly worried that he hadn't completed the task required of him, and began to voice his protest.

'Rodney, I'm fine. Carson says I can get out of here in a few days if I'm good, and there's one less Wraith queen out there to fight. All in all, a successful mission,' he said, finishing with one of his customary crooked grins.

'I don't think it's your physical well-being everyone's concerned about…' Rodney admitted.

'So, what? You all think I'm crazy now?' Sheppard asked with a chuckle.

'No, it's just that…well…I suppose if we'd come that close to…you know…dying…'

'It's no big deal. I told you -- I'm fine,' Sheppard insisted, cutting the conversation dead.

'Okay…well…I should probably let you get some rest,' the scientist bumbled, picking up the tray to take with him.

'Thanks for…the yoghurt,' Sheppard called after him, feeling bad now that he'd been so short with his friend.

'No problem,' McKay replied, flashing the briefest of smiles as he headed out of the room, shoulders slumped in defeat. He stopped just as he reached the door. 'Oh, by the way…the planet was called Esperan, so Orial was an Esperean…Carson said you wanted to know.' And then he was gone.

Watching Rodney go, Sheppard let the name repeat over in his mind until he was sure he had committed it to memory. He wouldn't forget that name; it was the least he could do for them.

He felt sorry for Rodney now; it would have taken a lot for him to come and broach the subject of how he felt after his ordeal, and he hadn't made it easy for him. But Sheppard told himself he'd said the right thing -- he was going to be fine; he didn't need his friends fretting about him and thinking he couldn't cope. He was trained to cope with torture from the enemy. Why was this such a big deal to everyone?

But in truth, he knew the answer; he was just denying it to himself and everyone else. He'd been taken to the edge of death and back in the most hideously painful way imaginable -- drained of everything that made him 'him'. Well, none of that was important now. He was himself again, and that was all that mattered. Plus, he had taken down another Wraith queen -- that had to make it all worthwhile.

But even as he began to believe that, Orial floated back into his thoughts and his heart sank. He found it hard to accept that things had ended that way for her and the other Espereans. They had deserved so much more. He wondered if he should have insisted she come with them, but then realised how out of place she would have felt, knowing she'd left her people behind to die while she escaped.

As he pondered that, he wondered if the Lanteans had felt any regrets as they'd handed those innocents to the monsters their mistakes had helped to create. Perhaps they had, but like him, they'd realised it was something that had to be done for the greater good, or at least what they considered the greater good to be. In this case, it had been necessary, but the loss of one Lantean vessel -- did that warrant the destruction of a civilisation? He doubted they would ever be able to rationalise that no matter how much they tried to.

He felt hungry again, longing for a steak and fries and all the trimmings, but he knew Carson would never allow anything that satisfying to pass his lips. Then he realised something; the sensation he'd been thinking was hunger all day wasn't hunger at all. It was emptiness, the same emptiness he always felt when he failed to save people. No amount of food would fill that void-- and neither would convincing himself that the Espereans were better off because now they were free of their horrible existence.

With a sudden and horrible sense of awareness, Sheppard realised that despite his assertions that he was very different to those who had shared his Ancient genes, his journey to Esperan had finished the destruction the Lanteans had set in motion ten thousand years ago.

Maybe he didn't feel fine after all…


End file.
